The Slow Descent Into Madness
by AlKiMi
Summary: Kind of how it all started. Very depressing and bleak.
1. Chapter 1

**Well. This took me absolutely AGES to write, despite how short it is... I'm sorry for the late update, and I really need to go to bed now, since it's almost two a.m, but I wanted to post this before I go. I don't really like the way it's turned out... It's more depressing than I thought it would be. But, anyhow, reviews are awesome and I'll love you all forever if you read this. Um, things are probably going to get worse. There isn't much happiness in this, I'm afraid. If you don't like it, just say, and I'll stop. **

**Disclaimer: I own the story, and I'm kind of sad about that. I don't own anything else, apart from the receptionist, and she's a bit dull, actually.**

The further the battered Ford inched along the winding country lane, the closer he was getting to impending doom, as far as fourteen year old Vince Noir was concerned. He tried, unsuccessfully, to occupy himself by watching the passing scenery flying by, but there really were only so many grazing cows, oak trees and smelly fields that a teenage boy could take before his mind began to wander. And mind wandering was dangerous territory, like stepping onto a minefield. Mind wandering led to thoughts about the future, and what was about to greet him as soon as the car would roll to a stop…

Which was right about now, he realized as the car headed through a tall set of wrought iron gates. The countryside had momentarily given way to make room for a four-story building constructed from dull grey stone, which cast ominous and depressing shadows onto the driveway and car park below. Vince wasn't stupid. He knew what was going on, despite the lies his parents had offered him over the last few days. He'd known this was coming for weeks. He'd even tried to stop it, at first, but he was fighting a losing battle.

"Um, darling, we're here," his mother said in a small voice. Vince felt awful for her – she was like a puppy waiting to be kicked. He tried to force a brave smile as they climbed out of the Ford, and while his father retrieved his bags (all four of them) from the boot, he wrapped her into a warm embrace to show that there were no hard feelings.

The gravel driveway didn't help the nerves that were settling in the pit of Vince's stomach, even as he kicked a pebble the whole way across the car park and watched it bounce of a piece of guttering at the other side. His father didn't bother to scold him for ruining his shoes (Vince had been trying to get rid of them for weeks – a boring old leather pair that his dad had picked out), he just stalked right over to the double doors that led to the facility and held them open so they could enter ahead of him.

The lobby was large and empty, apart from a drowsy looking receptionist who was slumped at the front desk, staring at a computer screen. Playing solitaire, apparently, because she blushed when she realized that the Noirs were approaching.

"Good morning. How can I help you?" The receptionist's tone sounded bored, as if she had recited the lines a million times – she probably had. Vince stared down at the grimy floor and scuffed his shoes on the linoleum while his dad leaned across the desk and began murmuring in an urgent whisper.

"Why don't you go and sit down over there, darling?" Vince's mum asked quickly, pointing to a row of comfortable chairs in the far corner. Vince shrugged, half rolling his eyes, and went to flop on the one closest to the doors, wishing more than anything that he was good enough at running to sneak out and disappear over the hills before they realized he was gone. Instead, he scrutinized the disgusting shade of brown that smothered the walls and contemplated becoming an interior designer. He could certainly brighten this place up, for a start, maybe go for a sky blue color for the walls, a darker color for the plush carpet… He was wondering if he could persuade whoever owned the place to add some paintings to the walls, just to give the place a bit of oomph, when his mother returned and took his hand in hers.

"Vince, honey, you're going to be… staying here. For a while. Until-"

"Yeah, mum, I know. I get it," Vince sighed, "It's okay."

His mother looked relieved, and allowed it to show on her face for the smallest moment, before she collected herself.

"I didn't… I didn't agree with this, you know. I tried to convince him otherwise, but… You know how he is. We both love you very much, darling. He's trying to help, in his own way."

"I know, mum," Vince muttered. His mum frowned slightly, her eyes darting back to his father, who was waiting with one elbow leaning on the desk.

"So, um, this lady's going to take you upstairs, to your new room. You'll be okay, darling, I know you will. You'll be back home before you know it. I'll try- I'll try to-"

"I know that, too," Vince smiled, standing up. His mother hugged him close for a long moment before holding him at arm's length and flicking his long blonde hair out of his eyes, in the caring way that only mothers can perfect.

"Be safe, darling," she whispered before releasing him. There were tears in her eyes even after she dabbed at her face with a sodden tissue.

"Bye, dad," Vince mumbled when his father offered him a mere handshake. They'd never exactly been close, but Vince expected more, since this was all his father's fault and he was leaving for a few months, at least.

"Bye, son. You take care of yourself." It was like he was addressing a distant relative – the distaste he felt towards his son was apparent when the receptionist came to collect him. He didn't look back once when they left – simply slipped his arm around Vince's mother and led her solemnly back to the car.

"Your room's on the third floor. There are others there, too. I suppose you'll make friends eventually. There's a dining room up there, as well, and a place for you to sit and chat," the receptionist seemed a little friendlier as they entered an elevator and she jabbed the button for the third floor. Vince's stomach was doing somersaults as they ascended, his bags set out by his feet. As he struggled to yank them all out of the sliding doors in time, she warned him that all of his stuff would be checked and confiscated where appropriate. Vince tried his best to ignore her, concentrating instead on the sound his shoes made against the shiny floor, and on dragging his bags after him.

"Just down here…" the receptionist mumbled, not bothering to help with his things. The corridor they had entered was just as empty as the lobby had been, and just as bleak. From the windows up here, Vince could see the car park below, and noted that his parents were long gone. Oh, well. There was no use pining for them now, anyhow. They were the ones who had decided to leave him here alone.

"Here's the main area…" The receptionist didn't seem to be able to muster the energy to construct a whole sentence, so she just waved her arm pathetically around after she trailed off. The 'main area' wasn't exactly party central – there were a few sofas in the middle of the room, with the stuffing leaking out onto the floor and the fabric ripped and worn in places, and an ancient TV set on a table in the corner. A few desks dotted here and there, and that completed his first impression of the room. Vince tried not to crinkle his nose at the musty smell that cloaked the building, but he wasn't sure he completely managed to disguise his disgust when he was led to a poky bedroom just south of the living area.

"You can just leave your stuff in here… I'll leave you to get settled in. Feel free to head out when you're done, I'm sure the others are aching to meet you. We haven't had a new face around here for ages."

"I'll bet," Vince muttered darkly as he dragged the last bag into the room and sat back on the dusty bed. The lumpy mattress made him cringe, and the creaking noise that filled the room when he lay back was almost enough to send him over the edge, and nearly pushed the tears he had been trying to conceal into the open. Almost. Vince stopped himself just in time, screwing his eyes up so that he didn't cry. Crying would be a bad idea right now. It would make him almost as weak as his mother.

He knew he wasn't being fair to her, but he couldn't help it. She had abandoned him, let his father get his way once again, leaving Vince in this awful place for God-knows how long. He hated her. He hated them both.

Slowly, Vince began to unpack. He wasn't sure what good it would do, since his stuff could be taken away, anyway, but it felt good to have his posters and drawings around him. His clothes went in the pathetic wooden wardrobe that sat across from the bed, but only half would fit onto the hangers provided, so he folded the rest up and set them in the bottom. The room was windowless, so he couldn't even distract himself with the view below or let some air into the stale atmosphere. Urgh. Things really couldn't get much worse, he reasoned, as he hid his face in the pillow. The linen smelled funny, sort of like disinfectant but not quite. He detected bleach, and the old, dingy smell of the building. Nothing could erase that smell from his brain. Not even the slight knocking at the door.

Vince stood up, scrubbed desperately at his eyes, and went to answer it. Whoever was calling on him was impatient, because the sound came again just as his hand reached for the door handle. He wondered who wanted to speak to him so badly, and prepared to open the door to find out. Any visitor would be welcome, he decided, because things could only get better. They couldn't possibly get worse, could they?

After all, he was practically alone now. He'd left any sort of friends behind at home. Everyone thought he was crazy, anyway. The people that he'd be living with, their impressions couldn't count for much, surely?

He _was _in a mental asylum.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's chapter two, guys! Sorry it took me so long to update - I promised myself I'd write this yesterday and never got round to it. But here it is, nevertheless. This one is slightly happier than the last, but I'm still not completely happy with it. Still. Enjoy!**

**Any and all reviews are very much welcome, and make my heart happy. Many thanks to thejigsawtimess and Vince'sgothgirl for reviewing so far! I can't explain how much I love you guys.**

**Oh, and I keep forgetting to mention this, but I'm not sure how to do like a double paragraph space, so please ignore the fact that there are some bits that shouldn't be stuck together. Maybe I should try doing underscores? Hmm...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or anything. But you knew that, right?**

Vince crossed the room and took a deep breath before resting his hand on the door handle and tugging it open. He was lucky that he was allowed to have a door, actually, although it didn't have a lock… He hadn't expected to have any privacy at all.

"Hi-" Vince started, opening it wide enough to see who was out there. A small boy, younger than he was by a couple of years at least, barged inside and flew straight to the bed, completely ignoring Vince's look of obvious confusion and annoyance at having his small personal space invaded so quickly. He climbed onto the bed and stood up on it, holding something that appeared to be an ordinary glass of water close to the ceiling and muttering incoherently under his breath.

"Er, did you want something, or…" Vince let himself trail off, frowning at the boy, who hadn't taken the slightest bit of notice to him. He _looked _normal, or at least he didn't look insane. He could have been any number of the guys at school. A little on the short side, maybe, and his hair was a little longer than most of the people he knew back home, but he was wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt. There was nothing that odd about him, apart from the fact that he seemed to be talking to himself and he was holding the glass of water like it held the secrets to the universe. That, and the fact that he'd ran into the room uninvited and ignored its only resident.

"Excuse me?" a voice from the doorway asked, followed by a slight cough. Vince turned slowly, wondering what insanity he would be met with next, but person greeting him looked ordinary enough. He wasn't chanting under his breath, either, so that had to be a good sign.

"Er, hey, I'm Vince-" he started to introduce himself, but the boy in the doorway cut him off.

"Yeah, if I could just get my friend? He's a bit… Yeah. Sorry for disturbing you, I'm sure you want some time to settle in…"

"Actually, I was just about to come out," Vince said quickly, watching as the older boy slunk to the bed and started talking soothingly to the younger one. He took him by the arm and led him away, muttering something about the room being the only one with enough light for his potion to be effective.

"Hey, wait!" Vince called after them, dashing into the hallway and closing the door behind him. The pair were headed off in the direction of the living area he had passed with the receptionist earlier, and he followed them eagerly.

"Do you need something?" the older boy asked, inclining his head slightly so he was facing Vince. He resisted the urge to look at his feet and kept his gaze solidly ahead of him.

"I'm new here, I was just wonderin' if you could maybe… show me around?"

"What, you didn't get the guided tour already?" the boy asked, with a hint of sarcasm. Vince shrugged.

"Not quite up to my standards, mate," he commented, walking quickly to catch up with them. If they were anything like the boys at school, then he was making the wrong decision by getting closer to them, but they seemed all right. Nice, even. Even though the older boy was wearing an excess of beige. They hadn't called him a freak or tried to hit him yet, so he supposed that was a good sign.

"Er, well, I'm sure I could, y'know, show you the ropes. Just let me get him to his room, okay?"

"Is he always like this?" Vince wondered as they trailed down the corridor, the older boy allowing the other to lean on his shoulder like he needed the support.

"I guess," he said, frowning slightly. Vince wished he could withdraw that last comment – he wasn't experienced with dealing with crazy people, he wasn't sure how to react. He'd thought that being here wouldn't be so bad, that he could connect with someone on the same level as him, but so far everybody seemed either the same as they did back home, or downright insane.

"Sorry, I just…" Vince apologized, glaring at the floor.

"Nah, it's all right. I don't think he hears what we're saying half the time, anyway. He's not this bad all the time. He talks to us and stuff, but he's a bit… isolated," the older boy finished carefully. The younger one didn't react to his words, just stared intently into the glass of water before gingerly taking a sip.

"So, er, what's your name?" Vince asked when he decided that the awkward silence had gone on too long.

"I'm Howard. You're… Vince, right?"

"Yeah. I just got here."

"I know. We've been waiting for you ever since one of the therapists let it slip that there'd be a new face around here."

"Oh. Wait, you knew about me? For how long, exactly?" Vince was well aware that his voice was raised, but he couldn't seem to lower it even as Howard said 'er, about a month', whilst looking up at Vince like he wasn't all there.

"Sorry, it's just, er… My parents tried to keep this from me. I, er-" He couldn't finish the sentence. How long had his father been planning this? He had tried sending him to that psychiatrist a couple of weeks ago… but not a month ago, surely? Thinking back, Vince concluded that it _had_, in fact, been about a month since his first appointment. A consultation, they had said. They obviously hadn't been happy with the results, however hard Vince had tried to act 'normal'.

"Right," Howard mumbled in reply. Vince couldn't help but feel bad about his outburst.

"Sorry about that, mate. I was just shocked," he apologized again when they stopped outside another door. Howard deposited the younger boy inside by the bed, and after a whispered argument about how the potion would deactivate if it was kept in the gloom much longer, managed to persuade him that they'd be back before dinner.

"So who's he, then?" Vince asked once they'd left the room. Apparently they weren't out of earshot, though, because a muffled lisp came from the room.

"I'm Naboo, that's who."

"Here's the bathroom," Howard said, gesturing lamely around the room, "The showers are back there…"

The bathroom was large, with a row of wash basins in the center and a set of urinals beyond that. Everything seemed to be run down around here – rust coated the pipes and the mirrors were chipped. Vince caught sight of his reflection and took a second to adjust his hair – he'd finally won the battle with his father to be allowed to keep it shoulder-length, and he'd added a few blonde highlights over the summer.

"Your hair looks nice," Howard blurted, catching Vince preening himself. He ducked his gaze to the floor immediately after, and mumbled an apology.

"I mean… it looks fine," he edited slowly.

"S'alright. I'm used to it," Vince forced a laugh, "All the girls back home wanted to touch it, said it looked good."

"Right," Howard muttered, "Of course you had girls after you-"

"No, I mean… They didn't really like me or anythin'. Just a couple of times, outside, when the lads weren't around… Everyone else thought I was a freak, anyway. They were embarrassed 'bout gettin' seen with me, so they backed off pretty quickly…"

"Sorry," Howard repeated, "I'm being a right prick today, aren't I?" He seemed to be asking himself rather than Vince, but he didn't mind that.

"C'mon, you said you'd introduce me to the others!" Vince reminded him excitedly, trying to ease the other boy from his suddenly pessimistic mood. Howard nodded glumly.

"Yeah. They're through here."

Vince's 'guided tour' had consisted of a quick glance down a few tediously identical corridors, the dining room (which was just a large room with a big table in the middle, and a few chairs scattered around, with a serving hatch that meant plates could be passed through easily from the adjacent kitchen), and the boys' bathroom. There were also a row of conference rooms across from the bedrooms, but they were strictly off-limits unless you were taking part in group therapy, according to Howard.

"So, how long have you been here?" Vince wondered. Howard chewed his bottom lip for a moment before answering.

"Three and a half years," he said finally, sounding defeated, like Vince was silently judging him. He wasn't – just trying to start a decent conversation.

"Oh." It was the only thing he could think to say. So much for carrying the conversation on, then.

"Yep. The most miserable three and a half years of my life, unless you count the short time I spent at school."

"I'm… sorry."

"Nah, don't be. S'not your fault, after all. Shall we go through?" They had reached the set of double doors which would lead through to the main area, which had seemed pretty empty when Vince had first arrived. Howard explained that everyone was supposed to spend a few hours in their own rooms a day, although they hardly ever stuck to this rule. You were supposed to use the time for writing in a journal, or something, but Vince wasn't really listening. Instead, he was peering through the small windows set in the doors, trying to get a glimpse of the people he would be living with for the foreseeable future.

"Are they… Are they okay?" he asked Howard as they prepared to go inside. He shrugged.

"Depends what you mean by 'okay'. Mentally, I'd say not so much."

Howard pushed the door open swiftly and held it open for Vince to go through. For a second, he thought it was empty again, but upon further inspection, he saw a group of people huddled in the corner of one of the sofas, talking in low voices about something. They snapped apart when he approached, so he guessed they were discussing him.

"Hey." Vince offered a little wave, which was only returned by one person – a boy wearing light blue and peering curiously up at him.

"Vince, this is Bob Fossil. He's um…" Howard didn't seem to have the right words, so he let the sentence hang in the air between them.

"Vincey!" the boy yelled, making a leap at Vince, who shied away, eyebrows raised.

"Wh-" Vince started to say, but after being wrapped in a bear hug by the strange (and slightly overweight) boy, his air supply was cut off for quite a few seconds, and he couldn't finish.

"We waited so long for you to get here," Fossil said, stroking Vince's arm. He tried to move away but Howard was directly behind him and the others were looking expectantly up at him.

"Er… right," Vince muttered, sinking onto the sofa beside them, "Is it okay if I sit here?"

Fossil nodded eagerly, refusing to let go of his arm. Vince pretended he didn't mind while Howard introduced the others.

"This is Miss. Gideon," he smiled at a young girl sitting with her knees close to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Vince frowned.

"Doesn't she have a first name?" he whispered, leaning close to his new friend so she wouldn't hear. Howard shook his head.

"She has amnesia – doesn't remember who she is. She took her last name from the person who rescued her in the street, apparently," Howard informed him. Vince said 'aah' knowingly, although he wasn't sure what 'amnesia' was, exactly.

"This is Bollo," Howard gestured to the last person in the room, a muscular boy who merely grunted at Vince. When he raised his eyebrows questioningly, Howard whispered, "He doesn't talk much. He's, uh… primitive."

"Right," Vince acknowledged. It was quite obvious why they were here - the question was, why was Howard?


	3. Chapter 3

**The second update in one night, guys! Well, I suppose it's morning now, but here 'ya go! I got kind of sad writing this one, actually, probably because I was playing 'The House That Built Me' by Miranda Lambert on repeat. It's a good song - you should listen!**

**There's some swearing in this one, sorry about that. And lots of bad memories and weeping. **

**Again, sorry about there not being any double spaces. I'll try to find a way to fix it soon, since the underscore thing didn't work.**

**Thanks for reading this far, guys. It means a lot.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Why would I be writing FanFiction if I did? Surely you'd remove the 'fan' and it'd just be fiction?**

They sat with the others for a little while longer, although the brief exchange was awkward and made Vince feel incredibly uncomfortable. Howard seemed perfectly at ease spending time with these strange people – but he'd been here much longer than a couple of hours.

Aside from Howard, the only person who seemed relatively sane was Miss. Gideon. Vince made a mental note to probe her for any clues of a first name later on, and watched her tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She was pretty, Vince decided. She reminded him of summer. There certainly wasn't enough summer to go around here.

"Guys! Dinner's ready!" a voice called from the other end of the room. A woman came bustling in, carting a large, bulging folder under one arm and pressing a mobile phone to her ear with the other. Confused, Vince turned to Howard for information, and found him already prepared to give it to him.

"She's our guardian. Michelle."

"Right. What does she do, exactly?"

"Oh, you know, bosses us around, tells us what to do and stuff. She's okay, really. She tends to bend the rules a lot."

"Oh," Vince said lamely, "Well, what's for dinner?"

"It's Thursday, so I'd say bangers and mash. The menu doesn't really change much."

The group trooped through to the dining room almost eagerly, as if the promise of dull food was enticing to them. Vince lingered a little, wishing he could stay behind by himself, but they'd probably make him go through anyway… Even Naboo had joined them, staring dreamily into the distance and making sharp hand gestures every few seconds.

"Hmm…" he said vaguely, glancing at Vince for a second, taking him in, before joining the end of the queue and going straight back to ignoring him.

Vince allowed the manly cook behind the serving hatch to dish the food onto his plate before trailing over to join Howard and the others at the table. They ate together, huddled at the very end of the table, so it was a little cramped, but also slightly comforting, since Vince didn't want to be alone. He couldn't help thinking about his parents, wondering what they would be doing without him. They'd be home by now, he was sure. Probably napping in front of the TV or eating a meal similar to the one he was having now. He was almost surprised when tears sprung to his eyes at the thought of them moving on without him.

"_He's been acting weird, Helen," Vince's father whispered to his wife as they stood washing dishes in the kitchen. Little did they know, thirteen year old Vince was hiding in a cupboard right next to them. He had been planning to steal cookies from the jar in there, but his mother had entered the room so he had climbed in amongst the plates and assorted junk to hide, thanking his grandfather for installing cabinets large enough for him to fit inside._

"_I don't know what you're talking about. He's fine. He's just… distracted, by the stuff at school." _

_The 'stuff at school' was referring to the fact that Vince had been beaten within an inch of his life by the school bullies the week before. Complaining to the school had done nothing but anger them, and today Vince's new boots had been stolen by the gang leader, who called him a poof and threw them into a nearby bin. Vince had been too traumatized to retrieve them, despite how much they had cost, and had stumbled home barefoot._

"_Have you seen what he was wearing today, Helen? That ridiculous jumpsuit that _you _let him buy. He looks like he's wearing drag, for God's sake, it's no wonder he gets picked on…"_

_Vince tried not to let his father's words get to him, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. _

"_I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be gay, after all this-"_

"_I will _not _have talk like that in this house! Derek, you know better than this. I thought homophobic comments were beneath even you-"_

"_They're not homophobic, I was just _saying_-"_

"_You were just being heartlessly cruel about your own son!" Vince's mother hissed. _

"_Have you seen his drawings, Helen? He's living in his own world, he needs sorting out…"_

"_So he isn't allowed to have an imagination, now, isn't he?"_

"_I didn't say that! It's getting a bit extreme, don't you agree? All the… color. His grades are nothing like the others' in his class. The kid claims he can talk to animals, for goodness' sake. There's something wrong with him, and I want to find out what it is."_

Vince shook the memory off like rainwater, and suppressed it into the tightest place in his mind. He didn't want to ever have to return to that awful night. He had fallen out of the cupboard a few minutes later, when the argument had stopped, because his knees were so stiff from being squashed in the confined space for too long that they had seized up and he had fallen forward like a dead spider. His father was gone from the room, but his mother stood weeping by the sink, and her eyes widened considerably when she caught sight of her son on the floor. All the apologies that had followed hadn't been enough to make him forget.

"Vince? You in there?" Howard was waving a hand in front of his face, and Vince forced himself to meet the other boy's gaze.

"Yeah, sorry. I was miles away."

"I was asking why you're here. You know…" His voice lowered a little, and took on a dark edge, "_here_."

"I-I'd rather not talk about it, actually," Vince mumbled, stirring his mash with his fork. The cutlery was all made of plastic – probably so that nobody went crazy and tried to stab anyone with the knives.

"Oh. Right. I was just wondering," Howard said quickly, looking away. Vince couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and wished he hadn't been so short with him.

"I'll tell you… later, 'kay?" Vince offered, hoping this would be enough. Howard's eyes brightened at the thought of being trusted with someone else's personal information, and he puffed his chest out a bit. Vince smiled to himself and choked down another mouthful of mash before pushing his plate away.

"Y'know what, I'm not that hungry. Shall we go through?"

Five minutes later, they had managed to excuse themselves from the table. Vince had untangled himself from Fossil's arms and stepped over Bollo, who had chosen to eat on the floor, scooping the food up in his hands and shoveling it into his mouth like a caveman. He and Howard went through to the living area and settled themselves on one of the sofas, nearest to the window, so Vince could look out on the car park while they talked.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I was just asking, because… Well, we don't often get new faces around here, and you seem…" Howard trailed off, and Vince snorted.

"What? Normal?" The comment seemed to offend Howard in some way, and guilt stabbed at Vince like a toothpick, "Not that I meant you're not… Y'know."

"Normal?" Howard offered, smirking a bit, "That's okay. I've been here long enough to realize that, and I s'pose I've come to terms with it."

"You seem okay," Vince said kindly, reaching out to touch the other boy's arm. Howard snatched his hand back like his touch had burned and snapped 'Don't touch me!' in a defensive tone. Vince was taken aback, and positioned himself a bit further back in his seat. The crazed look in Howard's eyes refused to fade away, however, even when Vince said sorry.

"I… I don't like people touching me, okay?" Howard murmured, crestfallen. Vince shrugged, indicating that it didn't matter – he wasn't offended.

"It's all right. I just…" he sighed, rolling his eyes, "I'm the one being stupid. I guess I'm missing my parents a bit. I'm fine," he said firmly, when concern and shame showed in Howard's eyes, "It's not your fault, anyway. I don't know why I'm bothering you with my problems, actually. I'm going to bed. S'been a long day," Vince said, and stood up abruptly, abandoning their attempted heart-to-heart. Howard watched him go, and then cursed himself for being so heartless, once again.

Back in his bedroom, Vince curled up on the bed, facing the wall, and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the nightmares to stay away for tonight at least. He'd tried everything – dream-catchers, sleeping pills, staying awake until he passed out from exhaustion, but so far, nothing had worked. The nightmares were memories, mostly, twisted memories of his father, and of the boys at school, although in his dreams they were a lot more colorful and didn't object to wearing feather boas.

Vince couldn't sleep, anyway, so he didn't waste too much time worrying about the dreams. He flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, remembering how mean he had been, leaving Howard there all alone. One tiny mistake, not even the other boy's fault, and he'd dashed off like a spooked animal. Surely he, Vince Noir, could be a little more understanding towards other people, given everything he had been through lately?

A faint knock at the door startled Vince's eyes into flying open, and made his heart pound. He drew the covers up to his chin and pressed himself against the wall, wondering if this was a nightmare he had fallen into without knowing it. Terrified, he told the person to leave him alone.

"Vince… It's me. Howard. Can I come in a sec?"

Vince sagged with relief, feeling immediately better now that Howard was here. Wait. Why should he feel safe around this guy? He barely knew him. He didn't know why he was here, or what his problem with Vince touching his arm had been. He was almost definitely crazy. So why should he relax now that he was knocking on his bedroom door when he was supposed to be sleeping?

"All right," Vince allowed, reproachfully. Howard let himself into the room and tiptoed across to the bed.

"Vince… I'm sorry about before. Really, I… I don't know what came over me, I just…"

"S'okay. S'not your fault," Vince mumbled into his pillow. The pillow that still didn't smell of home, although he'd been lying here for over an hour.

"Are you okay?" Howard asked, sitting down carefully on the edge of Vince's bed. He tried not to feel awkward with the older boy next to him, and was alarmed to find that, thinking about it, he actually _wasn't_.

"I'm fine," Vince lied. Howard sensed that he wasn't telling the truth, but didn't press the matter, instead opting for a lighter note of conversation.

"Fossil's been missing you out there, you know. He keeps asking for his 'Vincey'."

Vince laughed, but it sounded more like a cough, "What can I say? I'm irresistible," he joked.

"He won't even speak to me. I think the only time he's ever said two words to me was when he told me to fuck off once."

This time, Vince laughed properly. It was nice to have someone around who he could talk to, even if it was just this odd, beige someone.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of you?" Howard asked teasingly. Vince raised his eyebrows, challenging him.

"And just how are you going to do that?" he asked, and before long, he had lost the tickling match and was propped up on the pillows with Howard squashed up beside him, preparing to tell him the things he hadn't told anyone before in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, I actually can't believe I've written this chapter so soon after posting the last two! This fic has been writing itself! I can sense that this is going to be quite a long one :)**

**I really can't thank you enough for reviewing! I was shopping in Liverpool today and I checked my emails on my phone and found all the review alerts, and I got high off happiness! **

**More reviews will be rewarded with hugs and chocolate ice cream :)**

**Disclaimer: Again - FANfiction. FAN being the operative word. But hey, just in case it isn't obvious, I don't own anything. Like I needed to be reminded :\**

_He hadn't wanted to go back in the first place. He'd tried everything to convince his parents that they should let him stay at home, but his mother had insisted. If he didn't go back now, he would miss too many important exams and they'd know that he was frightened of them enough to stay at home for more than a week. Besides, she told him, they'd have the police calling round if he missed any more school. They could be arrested._

_Vince didn't care. He stayed curled up in bed until the last possible second on Monday morning, hoping that his mother would forget about him and leave him there. He didn't care about missing school. He didn't care that he would probably fail his exams. He didn't even care that his parents could get into trouble, because it was all their fault anyway._

_Unfortunately, Helen barged into his bedroom, kicked the dirty laundry he had left lying at the foot of his bed out of her path, stooped to pick his latest drawings up from the floor and laid them carefully on his desk before shaking her son out of his fake slumber._

"_Vince? Darling, wake up, it's time to get up. Breakfast's already on the table."_

_With that, she left him to get dressed in a moody silence, wishing the day could be over before it had even begun._

_When he got to school, everything was just the same as it had been when he had left it. His dad dropped him off at the gates and Vince trailed miserably inside without saying goodbye._

_They were waiting by the bike sheds._

_He didn't see them at first – he was too busy kicking a pebble in front of him to notice until it was too late, and they had gathered around him in an intimidating circle. The leader (Vince didn't know his name – he was in the year above and before the last time when they'd ganged up on him, he'd never had a reason to speak to them before) stepped forward so he towered over Vince, who tried to back away but was blocked by a figure larger than him. They had him cornered, he realized hopelessly, ready to beg and run as soon as he found an opening in the perfectly formed cluster._

"_What d'you want?" he muttered as bravely as he could muster, glaring at his boots. They were perfect - brand new, shiny and red. He'd paid almost fifty quid for them, as well, so they'd better be as comfortable as they looked. So far he couldn't complain._

"_You got me suspended for three days, you fuckin' poof!" the leader hissed, as if this was even Vince's fault. He had tried to convince his mother not to phone the school, but she had insisted, and then met with the headmaster a few days later. _

"_Yeah, well, it wasn't my fault. And anyway – you're the one that nearly killed me!" Vince was hardly exaggerating – he still had the bruises. He'd tried to cover them with make-up this morning, but they were still slightly visible underneath. Every step made him wince._

"_You had it comin', faggot. Running after my girlfriend like that."_

"_I wasn't after your girlfriend! She just wanted to look at my hair, she didn't even speak to me-"_

"_You and your fuckin' hair. Makes you look like a fuckin' girl, if you ask me."_

"_Yeah, well, nobody did, did they?" Vince spat, deciding to stand up for himself, thinking that maybe they'd back off. They didn't – just sidled closer to him, making him feel claustrophobic and clammy._

"_Think them boots are against the dress code, don't you, guys?" the leader laughed, and the others chimed in with various insults. Vince wasn't even listening anymore. He just wanted to get out of there._

"_Just leave me alone, yeah?" Vince tried to stay calm, but it wasn't working. The boys kept laughing, ignoring the desperation in his eyes._

"_Nah, I think you need to be taught a lesson, mate. Whaddya think, guys?" More laughter, sounds of agreement. Vince tried to turn, but the leader grabbed the back of his blazer and tugged him backwards._

"_Just where do you think you're goin', mate?"_

"_Let me go, for fuck's sake!" Vince cried, struggling under his iron grip. He needn't have bothered, because all it did was make them laugh harder._

_The first punch caught him in the ribs, and knocked the air from his lungs. _Not again, _Vince thought desperately, searching for a way out. There was no-one else around, or at least nobody who cared about him. All the teachers were probably in the staff room, drinking coffee before class was due to start. Nobody was coming to save him._

_A couple of well-placed hits later, and Vince had collapsed on the floor, panting and completely drained. He didn't have the energy to protest as the leader pretended to admire his new boots and then yanked them off his feet, still cackling manically. He was still chuckling when he dumped them in the bin and signaled for the others to back off. They walked away hurriedly, and Vince realized the first bell had just rung._

_Oh, well. There was no way he was staying in school after his disastrous morning. He grabbed his bag (customized, obviously) from the floor and got shakily to his feet before ducking out of the gates and limping down the street, clutching his bruised ribs as he went._

"So your dad thought you were crazy because you were dressing up and getting bullied at school?" Howard asked, clearly confused. Vince sighed and shook his head.

"No. It was after that… I dunno, I think he wanted me to be his ideal version of a son, and when I didn't turn out like he wanted, he… lost it a bit. I wouldn't play football or anythin', and I wore make-up, and he didn't like it. Thought it gave the family a bad image or somethin'."

"So what made them send you here?"

Vince sighed, remembering. He wasn't sure whether to tell Howard everything or clam up.

_His dad didn't encourage the drawings, although his mum said it was okay, just Vince's way of expressing himself. It wasn't like he was drawing devil-worshipping symbols, she reasoned calmly while Vince sat sketching on the sofa. His father had peered over his shoulder and spotted the bright colors splashed across the page. Vince was drawing a man and a boy who looked suspiciously like himself in a jungle scene. _

"_What are you drawing, son?" his father had asked. Vince shrugged._

"_It's me an' Bryan Ferry in the jungle."_

"_Right," his father said through gritted teeth, shooting an exasperated glance at his mother, "It's great."_

"_Thanks," Vince muttered, although he knew his father wasn't voicing his true opinion. He kept his mouth shut anyway, staring down at the page and chewing his pencil as if he was concentrating._

"_Why are you drawing that, Vince?" His dad couldn't help himself, and Vince tried to prepare the most outrageous response in reply to his question._

"_Well, see, he's raisin' me in the jungle an' everythin', right, so he leaves me with all the different animals, right, an' we're havin' a good time, just relaxing in one of the trees, an' I start chattin' to this lemur, nothin' serious or anythin', just wonderin' if I've seen her around before because-"_

"_Vince, you don't _believe _any of this stuff, do you?" his father asked grimly, dreading the answer. Vince shrugged. Living in his fantasy world seemed preferable to the one with his parents in it._

_They'd taken him to the psychiatrist two days later._

_He hadn't said much during the first visit. He thought if he could tone the madness down for a couple of hours, they'd let it drop, but he'd accidentally explained the story behind one of his drawings that his father had brought along without realizing he'd let too much slip. After eavesdropping on a whispered conversation between his parents and the psychiatrist, he knew he was done for. They'd been given a handful of flyers (Vince had sneaked a look later when he was supposed to be asleep, and discovered that the counselor had recommended sending him away to a 'psychiatric unit', which even he knew was the fancy name for a mental asylum). His mother had somehow convinced his father to give it some time, and see how things progressed. Vince tried to tone his personality down a few notches for the next week or so, neglecting his make-up and going for mostly shirt and jean combinations from his wardrobe. They were on a family outing somewhere, though, when his father had lost it. _

_He'd mentioned his 'gift' of being able to converse with animals a few weeks prior, and even his mother was aware that travelling to a zoo was a bad idea. His father, however, seemed to want to push things as far as he could without them snapping apart in his hands. _

_Vince had tried to ignore the voices, at first, but it had been so difficult. They all wanted his attention. He was glaring up at a giraffe who wanted him to pass some fruit up from a tree that was too close to the ground for it to reach, trying not to answer it or make any signs that he understood, but the voice kept pestering him and he didn't think anyone was around…_

"_I can't reach 'em!" he protested, and the giraffe gave him a meaningful stare, "All right, I'll try!" he sighed, and spent the next five minutes trying to reach through the bars to pluck the fruit from a nearby branch. _

_He hadn't known his father was watching until he'd been telling the giraffe how animal prints were 'totally in' this season, and how it should maybe diversify its wardrobe, maybe with a leopard print scarf or something. His father, practically foaming at the mouth, had grabbed Vince by the arm and towed him away. They'd gone straight home after that, and nobody had spoken for the entire evening._

_Vince blamed himself, after that episode._

"So… you can really talk to animals, then?" Howard asked, too pale for comfort in the dark room. Vince shrugged, embarrassed.

"I know you must think I'm crazy… but I guess I can, yeah."

"I don't think you're crazy at all," Howard said sincerely. Vince sneaked a sideways glance in his direction, searching for any sign in his expression that he was lying to please the younger boy.

"Thanks, Howard," Vince replied, resisting the urge to burst into tears again. The stories reminded him of home, and he wanted nothing more than to be back there, snuggled in his own, warm bed.

"And the stuff about Bryan Ferry?"

"No, that was just a stupid joke that I sort of took too far. I guess I wanted to see what he'd do. And anyway, it's better than the alternative – that I grew up in a semi-detached house outside London with two boring parents, right?"

Howard couldn't help but smile, although Vince still sounded upset.

"So, are you going to tell me why _you're_ here?" Vince asked, staring into the other boy's eyes in case they revealed something he was trying to hide. Howard flinched, ducking his gaze.

"I think I should be going to bed, actually."

"Aww, c'mon, Howard, I just told you all of my secrets and I don't get to hear one of yours? That's not fair!" Vince complained as Howard slid off the bed, trying to suppress the urge to grab his arm.

"Life's not fair, little man." The pet name seemed to slip off his tongue easily, and Howard blushed slightly.

"Sorry, just… something my dad used to say."

"Right," Vince mumbled. He liked the nickname, he decided, as he watched Howard smooth down his shirt and prepare to leave.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he said, shifting his balance uncomfortably before he darted down the corridor to reach his own room before Michelle came searching.

Vince fell asleep effortlessly – he couldn't wait for the next day. He was blissfully surprised when the nightmares stayed away, and he was instead treated to a pleasant dream involving he and Howard on a unicorn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this chapter took so long! I promised myself I'd write this ages ago but I had masses of French homework to do and I didn't have the time. Anyway, it's the weekend now, and time to celebrate with a long(ish) and depressing chapter! I'm not sure if this one is any good, to be honest, because I've had the day from hell myself and I'm almost falling asleep at the keyboard, so I apologise in advance for any typos/grammatical errors. I don't think there are any, but just in case.**

**I'm also sorry if the writing in general is crappy, and because the double line spacing still didn't work. Any tips on how to fix that, anyone? **

**IceySummer - Your writing was amazing! I just loved it! I'd also love to read more? *Bats lashes* Pretty please? **

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing so far - it means a lot! Love you guys loads!**

**Disclaimer: All I own is the storyline. **

The next morning, an alarm clock screamed from the room next to his. When Vince dragged himself sleepily out of bed to check his watch, he saw that it was only eight a.m.

Eight a.m. On a _Saturday_.

"Shit!" The curse word came from the room next door, and Vince wondered drowsily who was in there. Probably Howard, he reasoned, because no one else seemed to have the mental capacity to set an alarm clock, let alone be woken up by one. As yesterday came rushing back to him, Vince closed his eyes and let the memories seep over him for a few seconds, before running a hand through his hair and deciding that now was as good a time as any to test the showers.

He rummaged in the bag closest to him, which was still lying open on the floor, and searched through the masses of clothes that hadn't fit into the wardrobe for a towel. He'd seen some in the bathroom yesterday, but he didn't fancy using one of the glorified rags, not when he had brought his own super-absorbent and bright red towel with him.

Vince found a change of clothes in the wardrobe and set about choosing an outfit, which meant the shower could only be put off by half an hour, at the most. Hearing the others clattering around in their own rooms, and Howard leaving his, alerted Vince to the fact that if he wanted to catch up with his new friend, he would have to hurry.

He threw on his shoes because he _really _didn't want to have to walk down the corridor barefoot, and ventured out into the hallway with his clothes bundled under his arm and the towel draped around his shoulders. He spotted Howard hovering outside the bathroom door, about to go in, and called for him to wait.

Vince inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that nobody else was in the bathroom. Although the shower cubicles were separate and as private as they could have been, under the circumstances, he'd feel on edge if any of the others were to come bursting in on him in there. Howard had waited in the doorway for him to catch up and now they entered the room together.

"Did you have to wake up so early?" Vince moaned, "Your bloody alarm clock went off right in the middle of this dream I was havin' about this new flavor of ice cream that was comin' out and it was made from the essence of a-"

"I always wake up at this time. Means I can get to the showers before everyone else, an' I don't like to sleep in, anyway."

"Why not? Sleepin' in's _genius_! You wake up all comfy, wrapped up in your blanket an' you take a leisurely stretch an' there's no pressure to get up or anythin'-"

"I just don't like it, okay?" Howard snapped, causing Vince to reel back in surprise. He nodded, speechless for a few seconds.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Vince stormed off in the direction of the showers and dumped his pile of clothes on the wall around the cubicle. The walls weren't as high as he would have liked (there was still the possibility of someone peeking over the top – not that he expected anyone to, but still), but he locked himself in the end cubicle anyway, to get away from Howard more than anything else. He was so _jumpy_, Vince observed, and the slightest thing could set him off.

It took ages to get the temperature of the water just right, and it kept jumping from scalding hot to freezing cold in seconds anyway, so in the end he washed his hair best he could and shut the water off after a few minutes of being sprayed with the temperamental jet. Vince toweled himself dry and dressed as quickly as he could, hoping to dash back to his bedroom to blow-dry his hair before anyone missed him.

"You comin' to breakfast?" Howard asked when Vince emerged from the shower and strode over to the mirror to fix his fringe. He shrugged.

"Maybe," he replied curtly, deciding to give Howard a taste of his own medicine. It wasn't like it had been last night, when they were being so open with each other. Now it was just awkward. Vince half regretted telling Howard his deepest secrets. He hardly knew him.

"Well I am," Howard said firmly, "I'll leave you to… whatever you're doing."

"I was just gonna dry my hair…" Vince trailed off when Howard scoffed at him, and folded his arms defiantly.

"What? S'not like you've got much to dry, is it? Try walkin' around with sopping wet hair leaking onto your clothes! It's not pretty!"

"Right. And you don't just want to blow-dry it so you _can_ look pretty, right? I saw all the hair products in your room, Vince – you can't even deny it."

"So I want to look good. So what?" Vince wasn't backing down. He'd taken enough shit about his hair over the years and he wasn't about to let Howard make him feel small.

"N-nothing," Howard stammered, looking away, "I didn't mean anything by it, I promise, I was just-" Howard looked almost _frightened,_ and Vince instantly felt guilty.

"S'alright, just forget it, okay? What's up with you today, anyway? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I'm fine," Howard muttered. Vince let it drop.

"Right, then. Breakfast?"

The morning was pretty much uneventful. Everyone else slept in 'till eleven, when Michelle went to check their rooms and banged on each door individually.

"Honestly," she said, "I'm glad you two aren't so lazy, because if you were still sleeping I'd be tempted to go back to bed myself," she addressed Howard and Vince, who hadn't moved from the breakfast table even though the plates had been cleared away. Vince managed a half-hearted sound of amusement, and Howard didn't even stretch to that. Vince was starting to wish he'd ignored the alarm clock and stayed in bed himself.

"So – sleep well?" Howard asked when their guardian was absent from the room. Vince nodded.

"Yeah. Better than I have in ages, actually. No nightmares or anythin'-" he blurted before realizing he'd let more personal information slip.

"You have nightmares?" Howard asked, incredulous, "Nah, you dream of magic and talking animals-" It seemed neither of them could say anything right today. Vince instantly became defensive and hugged his knees to his chest.

"You said- you said you didn't think I was-" Vince was close to tears, as much as he tried to hide it. He turned away from Howard and tried to occupy his mind with other things, things that wouldn't make him burst into tears again. _Pathetic, Vince, _he told himself, _blubbering like a baby every time someone says somethin' mean. You'd think you'd have learned to take it by now._

_When they had returned home from the zoo, his father had stormed straight upstairs and slammed the door, leaving Vince and his mother alone in the living room. She sank into an armchair, sighing, while Vince fidgeted by the couch, examining some dirt in his fingernails._

"_Why did you have to go and do that, darling? You know how angry it makes him when you…" his mother couldn't bear to finish her sentence, and left it hanging in the air between them. Vince stared at his feet._

"_It wasn't my fault! They were all talkin' at once, an' then that stupid giraffe had to go and ask for my help!"_

"_Vince, darling, you know… You know that it isn't real, don't you? It's just a story. All in your head, sweetheart. You don't… you don't really believe that…"_

"_What? That I can talk to animals? Course I do, mum! I'm not makin' it up, I swear! I'd tell you if I was makin' it up, but I've got a gift, I can-"_

_Neither of them had noticed Vince's father listening in the other room before it was too late. He hoisted Vince up by the shirt collar and put their faces close together._

"_Listen to me, son. Listen," As if he could _not _have, his father's voice was dangerously low and demanded the attention of his listeners, not to mention his saliva was flying everywhere, "You don't have a 'gift'. You can't 'talk to animals'. You're crazy, son. This-" he gestured to his paintings on the dining room table and to Vince himself, "-it's all made up. In your head, like your mother said. None of this is real. You need to understand that. You understand, don't you? That it's not real?"_

"_Y-yeah, course I do, dad, I was just jokin'-"_

"_Well you're taking these 'jokes' too far, Vince. You need to stop living in your head and come back to reality. This is the real world, with real problems and real issues. You have to get used to that. You know what happens if you can't adjust to that, don't you, Vince?"_

_Of course he did._

_He'd seen the leaflets._

"Vince? Vince, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, it just slipped out, I didn't- I forgot-"

"Yeah, whatever," Vince mumbled, counting the tiles on the wall. Two hundred and thirty five, he'd gotten up to, until Howard had rudely interrupted, "If it 'just slipped out' it must be what you really think, then, mustn't it?" he challenged, eyebrows raised. Howard shook his head desperately.

"No! I swear, I just wasn't thinking, it was the first example that came to mind, I just meant… I just meant that people like you don't have nightmares."

"What d'you mean, people like me?" Vince asked, suddenly annoyed, "Imbeciles?"

"No!" Howard insisted, turning bright red, "I meant… bright people. Surely all your coloured fabrics and your flamboyant wardrobe ward off all the bad dreams?"

"No. No, Howard, they don't," Vince's voice was stone cold when he addressed the other boy. He wasn't going to show any signs of weakness, not now. Maybe Howard wasn't the 'new best friend' material he was hoping for. Maybe he was so naïve that he had refused to see Howard's bad side.

"Vince, I'm so sorry, I just… I'm sorry, okay?" Sensing Vince was ignoring him, Howard raised his voice, and caused Michelle to poke her head around the door.

"Everything okay in there, boys?" she asked, smiling brightly. They nodded simultaneously, ducking their gazes in unison.

"I hope the others hurry up in the bathroom. We're _way _behind schedule," Michelle commented, checking her watch.

"Schedule? It's _Saturday_. There's no room for schedules on Saturday!" Vince hissed to Howard when she was out of earshot, momentarily lapsing in his vow not to talk to the other boy. Howard frowned.

"There's always room for schedules, Vince. Organization is the most important aspect of a healthy lifestyle-"

"Whoa, did you swallow a therapy textbook or somethin'? I'm not in the mood for psycho-babble today, Howard, sorry mate."

"You can't escape it forever, Vince. We're all booked in for counseling sessions today, anyway, so you'll have to face it sooner or later…"

"Urgh, great," Vince complained, "I just wanna go back to bed, y'know?"

"Welcome to our world," Howard muttered as the others trooped into the dining room.

Howard was being especially sweet after breakfast to make up for being so horrible earlier. When he and Vince went through to the main area to watch TV before they were due to be called into one of the counseling rooms with Michelle, he let Vince have the comfier seat by the window and perched next to him on the uncomfortable arm of the couch.

"Thanks for yesterday, by the way. It felt better to... get everythin' off my chest, y'know?"

"It was nothing," Howard said modestly, before adding, "I really didn't mean what I said. I can be really stupid and thoughtless sometimes. I promise, I don't think you're…"

"Funny how everyone avoids the word 'crazy' in here, isn't it?" Vince commented, and Howard forced a smile, "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. S'over. However, you still haven't told me why _you're _here." When Howard pouted and looked as if he was about to clam up, Vince cried, "You promised!"

"I didn't, actually," Howard said smugly, "I didn't promise anything."

"Well you practically did! An' anyway, I think I deserve to know, now, don't you? What with you being so mean an' everything-" Vince regretted his words as soon as Howard's face paled, but at least he had gotten a reaction from him.

"Fine."

A long silence stretched between them before Howard spoke again, "My parents died when I was eleven. Four and a half years ago, now. A car crash. It was horrific." A shudder rippled through Howard's body and he snuggled closer to the back of the couch for comfort, "I was in the back seat. A couple of broken ribs and a few stitches, but apart from that I was fine. They said I was lucky. _Lucky_. Ha." The laughter was toneless and harsh, "I felt like the unluckiest person alive when they told me what had happened. They moved me to a foster home, since my grandparents were in no state to take care of me and I didn't really have any other close relatives. It was… awful."

Vince didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, just let Howard tell his story.

"There were five other boys there and three girls, all older than me. They were reckless and got into trouble all the time, coming in drunk and getting arrested by the police. It drove the social workers mental – probably because of all the paperwork, to be honest. Anyway, they didn't like me. They pestered me constantly because I was mature for my age and I didn't want to get involved in any of their schemes. I hated it there. They beat me up all the time, and the social workers were oblivious. When I started at the local high school it only got worse. They had a massive group of friends there and they'd taunt me and hit me and- Y'know. They made my life a misery. I didn't have any friends at school and at the home I just stayed in my room by myself, and I suppose the social workers were worried, eventually. Said I was 'reclusive' and that it was often a sign of depression. I tried to go out more but I ended up walking the streets by myself and they found me and-" Howard sounded like he couldn't bear to finish, so he choked off and swallowed back the sob that was threatening to erupt, "They just left me there, in the road, possibly bleeding to death, and they didn't give a shit. They just walked off laughing and carried on getting pissed. I didn't even have a phone to call the home to come and get me. A woman eventually came out of one of the houses and found me there. Thought I was drunk, but she called an ambulance anyway. I started cutting myself after that."

"Gosh, Howard, I don't… I don't know what to say," Vince mumbled, unable to comprehend his friend's pain. It was too much to take in all at once. Howard looked so vulnerable, sitting there all curled in on himself, that Vince almost reached out to touch his arm, catching himself at the last moment and drawing his arm back to his side.

"I s'pose that's why I don't like it when people touch me. I don't… I don't trust people not to…"

"S'okay, I understand. You should've said somethin' before, I wouldn't have-"

"I know. It's fine. I'm fine," Howard repeated, the emotionless tone his story had taken on returning to his voice, "I'm fine now."

Vince just wished that he believed him.


	6. Chapter 6

**I meant to post this chapter last night, but I was revising for a Geography exam (it was horrible, if you're interested) and attempting to learn my Spanish, and then I had to go to bed. But here it is! I hope you enjoy, although this made me quite sad to write and it's just as depressing as the other chapters, I'm afraid.**

**'Kay, so thanks SO much to IceySummer, 4tr3, thejigsawtimess and Vince'sgothgirl for your beautiful reviews! I hope you keep reading and enjoying (if you are enjoying?).  
**

**IceySummer - Once again, your writing is simply amazing. And thank you for the comment about my last lines - I never really thought about them before, but I can't tell you how happy it makes me that you think I'm good at writing... *Blushes profusely*.**

**thejigsawtimess - Thank you SO much for reading and still reviewing - it really means a lot. And I tried the formatting thing but it didn't work, so I tried putting some crosses in instead... I'm not sure if it works, but let's see...**

**Just... thanks for carrying on with this. Sorry for the long A/N, but I was feeling sentimental.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say it again? NOT. MINE.**

Howard was an emotional wreck when Michelle called him into the private room down the hallway. He hadn't meant to get so worked up – he'd told that version of the story so many times he'd lost count. He always tried to remain distant and unattached, like he was talking about someone else, because it was easier that way, but even with telling Vince the edited story, with all the emotion ripped out and the most gruesome details kept to himself, something had swelled in his chest and he'd left the room trying to hide his tears.

He'd been here long enough to know that tears got you nowhere but deeper into the hole you'd dug for yourself.

Michelle was waiting on a swivel chair with her files flipped open on the desk in front of her, peering across at the spare chair in the room, when Howard entered. Michelle pretended to take notes on her legal pad every time they had a session together, but he'd realized long ago she was actually just doodling on the paper, when he'd leaned over to read her thoughts on himself.

"Hello, Howard," she greeted him with a smile when he closed the door gently behind him, and sank into the chair, planting his feet firmly on the floor to resist the temptation to swivel. He fought the exact same urges every time he entered this room.

"How are you today?" Michelle wasn't in the least bit patronizing, which was good, Howard thought. She was always nice to them, even during the rare occasions she grew exasperated and lost her temper, she always managed to tone it down. _It must be hard, _he thought, not for the first time, _to have to deal with people like us every day when you have your own problems._

"I'm fine," Howard lied for the third time that day, trying to hide his true feelings from her. Michelle didn't push the subject – she simply glanced over her 'notes' and cleared her throat.

"I see you've been getting along with our new resident," she commented, still smiling faintly, "How are you finding things with Vince?"

"Er, they're… great," Howard replied, "He's really… nice." He didn't want their midnight conversation to become public knowledge, so he offered the awkward statement, well, awkwardly.

"It's good that you're making friends, Howard. When you first arrived, you were pretty shut-off from everybody else. It's progress," Michelle stated, and Howard stared at his shoes.

"Yep."

XXX

_Howard had been living at the foster home for exactly three days, and every one was worse than the last. Apart from the general introductions, he hadn't spoken to anyone except the social worker who offered him meals and tried to make small talk whilst everyone was watching TV. He'd spent the first night locked in his new bedroom, trying to make it more friendly and less terrifying, but he hadn't succeeded. He didn't have enough possessions to fill the room – his clothes were packed away in drawers and in the wardrobe, and he'd positioned a lamp on the desk, but apart from that and his bedsheets, everything else had been donated by the other members of the household, since everything that was back at the house had gone off to auction. Apparently his parents' will hadn't accounted for him._

_The threadbare rug on his floor had come from whoever had this room last, and it was grimy and stained, but that didn't stop Howard from sinking down onto it and wrapping his arms around his knees. He gazed around the room, trying to become accustomed with the unfamiliar shadows in the corners and with the damp patches on the ceiling. He hadn't switched off the light since he'd gotten here three days ago, not even to go to sleep, because the nightmares that plagued him were scary enough without having to wake up to complete and pressing darkness, as well. Someone on the corridor had complained about the light seeping under the door and the social worker who had been nice to him at breakfast had come up to investigate, but he hadn't told Howard to turn it off, just gone quietly back downstairs and told the other resident that he'd been through a lot._

_He was supposed to start school the next day – it really couldn't be put off any longer. He'd tried to convince the social workers that he hadn't recovered properly and couldn't face it, but they hadn't fallen for it._

_Howard climbed into bed and tucked the covers up to his chin, dreading what morning would bring. _

_XXX_

_The morning had been rough. Everyone at school knew that the foster kids had a reputation, and steered clear of them as much as possible. He'd sat near the back of his new class and carved patterns into the desk during Maths because he couldn't concentrate – the boy next to him kept throwing spitballs and the girl behind him kept kicking his chair to get his attention, but the one time he'd turned around she'd whispered something snide and since then he'd taken to ignoring her._

_It was five minutes until the end of second period (History) and break-time lay just around the corner, when a crumpled piece of paper flew at his desk. Slowly, and with trembling fingers, Howard unfolded the note and read the one word until his vision was blurred with tears. When the bell rang, he propelled himself out of his chair and left the room before anyone could stop him, the word flying around his head like a crazed mantra – orphan._

_XXX_

_At lunchtime, Howard found a solitary bench shaded by some thick trees and stuck his head in a book. He was supposed to collect his free lunch from the canteen, but he didn't have the energy to face all those sneering teenagers, so he'd opted to come out here instead. He was busying himself with the daunting task of studying for a Physics exam that had been sprung upon him when he heard voices coming from in the trees._

_Turning slowly, Howard glimpsed his new housemates grouped together under an oak, muttering about something, and saw the flash of a lighter's flame. Howard had gotten to his feet before the smell of pot hit him and the full realization that the other foster kids were _doing drugs _in _school_ dawned._

_Okay, so it wasn't really drugs, just a few joints, but Howard hadn't had any experience with illegal substances prior to this, and he overreacted, trying to scrape his books together into his bag and tumbling backwards. One of the girls, Deena, he suspected, spun around to find him on his back, trying to scrabble up and regain his balance, and took a few wary steps towards him._

"_Aw, Howard, are you okay?" she asked sweetly, "Did we give ya a scare for a sec?"_

"_No, I'm fine. I just lost my balance. I'm fine. I'll see you later-"_

"_Aw, leaving so soon, Howie? Why don't you stay a while? Here, d'you want a smoke?"_

"_No, thank you, I should really be going-"_

"_Why? It's not like you've got any friends to go to, is it? C'mon, don't be so boring, stay for a bit and have a quick joint. Tate's got some coke, haven't ya, Tate?" Deena asked, gesturing to the older boy, who nodded distantly. _

_Howard couldn't stop himself – he turned and ran, the mention of cocaine too much for his innocent brain to comprehend. He had to do something, before they seriously wrecked their lives and got into more trouble than they had already. He'd seen the stashes of vodka in the kitchen._

_Without thinking, Howard went straight to the Head's office, and told him everything. _

_XXX_

_That night was excruciating. Howard had waited in the head's office during fifth period to ensure that they'd got all the details pinned down and then Howard had been sent home ten minutes early. The minibus had picked him up and taken him back to the home before it returned for the others, who had been kept behind for an hour's detention and then excluded for two days. Howard had been in the room when the Head had called the home and talked things over with one of the social workers, and he couldn't help but feel like a snitch._

_The social worker, Debbie, told Howard to watch TV in the living room while she spoke to the others in the kitchen. He'd told them about the vodka, too, and he could hear the bottle clanking as Debbie slammed it down on the counter._

_They'd gone to bed without a word._

_An hour later, he'd retired to his room, changed into his pyjamas, and crawled into bed, with the bedside lamp switched on next to him, shivering. Howard wasn't sure if it was from the cold that blew in through the open window or from nerves. _

_He'd had half an hour of peace, and had warmed up considerably. Then, at about eleven o' clock, they'd crept into his room and closed the door behind them, with Howard soundly asleep._

_They formed a semi-circle around the bed, and Deena reached over for the pillow that Howard had discarded at the end of the bed. Slowly and quietly, so that he wouldn't wake, she nodded to Tate and Cheri to hold him down, sighing gratefully when he didn't stir. Deena counted to three, then clamped the pillow over his face._

_She hadn't meant to go so far, or so she claimed afterwards. He'd turned blue by the time the social workers heard the struggle and burst into the room and wrestled Deena away. Howard was unconscious when they called for an ambulance, and he didn't wake until the next morning, wondering why he'd woken up in a hospital again._

XXX

The appointment went as it should. Howard answered half-hearted questions until Michelle was satisfied. They usually went over a few of his more recent episodes, where he'd lapsed in his oath not to cut. He hadn't self-harmed since last week – eight and a half days ago. The cut had already healed into a thin white scar that blended in well with all the other thin white scars.

"Oh, and Howard, I wanted to talk to you about something," Michelle said as she jotted something down in her legal pad, "It's about Vince."

Howard sighed. Another lecture on how he had to stop pushing people away and he had the opportunity to make a genuine friend and he could not, under any circumstances, let it slip through his grasp.

"Would you do me a favour and look out for him, Howard?" The question was innocent enough, and at first Howard thought it was another ploy to make their friendship last – by pretending he had a responsibility, a _duty_, even, to protect Vince, so that he'd feel like he had to stay friends with him. Howard wasn't going to fall for it – he already had too many people to look out for, and he wasn't exactly setting a good example for them, either, remembering the time Naboo had burst in on him when he was having a particularly bad time and reduced the younger boy to tears.

"Dr. Logan's coming down tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

**Another chapter in one night! I'm so proud.**

**This one is a bit weirder than the others. I apologise in advance if you don't like it, because I'm not sure if I do or not, but hey, I promised it would get dark!**

**Disclaimer: I'm tired of saying this. I don't own the Mighty Boosh.**

**Oh and the crosses worked! I'm glad. **

Howard left the room shakily, and strode down the corridor in a zombie-like fashion. His mind was spinning – he couldn't hold on to a solid thought, more and more questions kept niggling at him like annoying flies, except he couldn't bat them away because they were inside his own head.

He didn't think he could face seeing Vince after what he'd been told, so he went back to his bedroom and closed the door, hoping that he wouldn't be disturbed when he sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

How had everything gone wrong so quickly? How hadn't he anticipated this? It was the routine, it was to be expected… So why hadn't he thought of this scenario already?

Howard fumbled under his pillow for his journal, the one he had been forced to keep since he arrived here, and flipped through the pages. He hadn't written much lately, although you were supposed to add an entry every day, not that they were ever checked, but he felt slightly guilty as he looked through the previous handwritten entries.

_I'm not sure what I'm supposed to write here, _the first one read, _but they told me to write what I'm feeling so I'll try my best. I just got here yesterday – I arrived in a cab because there was nobody else to take me. The social workers must be glad to have washed their hands of me once and for all – I've been nothing but trouble to them. I don't like it here. The other residents are strange and they don't talk much. I hardly slept last night – I thought one of them might burst in on me, and the last time that something like that happened… _The first entry stopped there, on an unnecessary cliffhanger for everyone but him. Apart from the social workers and the other kids, nobody knew what happened that night except Howard. He'd never felt the need to tell anyone – it was private, and he especially didn't want to be grilled about it by Michelle.

The next entry was scruffier, more careless. It detailed what he had eaten for lunch and what had happened on a sitcom they'd watched on TV. This carried on for a few pages before the entries got darker.

_Went for my evaluation with Dr. Logan today. It was strange. We didn't use the normal rooms, we took the lift down to the bottom floor, something that's like a basement but was actually a sort of laboratory. I didn't expect what I saw even when we walked inside. He took me through to one of the offices at the back and asked me questions about when I was staying in the home and then the stuff afterwards. He seemed- _The entry cut off there because of the thick black scribble that crossed out the following words. They were engraved into Howard's mind anyway, although he'd tried his best to forget. He'd written _He seemed nice, and he made me feel welcome. _

A few dull entries later, and Howard's writing got more desperate, _I don't belong here at all. I'd rather be back living with Deena and the others than be stuck here. I hate it. I don't want to stay._

A week had passed between the next two entries, _It's better now. I've learned how to deal with everything. I've hidden the razor I smuggled in under the mattress. Hopefully nobody will find it. If they do I'll find a way to get hold of another one._

He gritted his teeth as he flicked the page over, almost afraid of what he would see, although the entire contents of the journal were etched into his brain.

_Dr. Logan came back yesterday. Apparently when he isn't here he spends his time at other units, other hospitals, but I'm not sure exactly what he does. He's a 'consulting psychologist', apparently. I know what I said when we first talked but now I'm not sure I trust him. Everything seems darker when he's here. Everyone seems afraid of him, although I'm sure I'm just being paranoid. That's what it said on my record, when I sneaked a look – suffers extreme bouts of paranoia and depression. I'm not sure what to make of that, actually._

Two days between these, and on the second entry, Howard seemed almost _frightened, _but that was stupid, wasn't it? He hadn't been all that scared at the time, he was sure.

_Something's wrong. I can feel it. They let us go out today, to walk around the gardens at the back of the unit, but it was foggy and started to rain and then Naboo went a bit crazy and had to be escorted inside. I don't blame him. He might not talk much and he might seem a bit weird at times but he does understand what's going on. I just wish I did. Dr. Logan came out with us and he was pointing out the different varieties of flowers when Naboo started screaming. Said something's wrong with Bollo, but he didn't say what. I feel like everyone's losing it lately. I know I'm not perfect, but at least I'm not falling apart. But he did seem weird. He used to speak a bit and he was friends with Naboo, but now he's more distant than ever. I don't know what's happening._

The next entry was short in comparison, _I couldn't sleep last night. I lay awake worrying about Dr. Logan and trying to figure out what's going on. I'm a bit tired now, actually. I might sleep for a while._

Howard remembered – he had gone to sleep, but he hadn't woke up in his bedroom. The memory tugged at him and threatened to drag him back into the bleak place he'd been residing in when he'd written the journal entry.

_I woke up in the office…_

_XXX_

_Howard had woken in a sitting position. It took him a few attempts to open his eyes, but when he tore himself out of slumber, he saw that he wasn't simply propped up against the wall in his bedroom as he had first suspected, but was downstairs in the office that he and Dr. Logan had first spoken in._

_Howard had already suffered one experience too many with waking in an unfamiliar place, and didn't particularly want to revisit those experiences. He tried to come to terms with his surroundings and work out how he had gotten there at the same time, but Dr. Logan stepped into the room and locked the door behind him before he had a chance to come to a reasonable conclusion._

_He had taken the seat opposite, smiling invitingly at Howard. He didn't return the gesture._

"_Wha's goin' on?" Howard slurred, blinking rapidly to clear his aching head. Dr. Logan chuckled dryly._

"_Don't you remember, Howard? You're here for your appointment," he informed him, although Howard knew nothing about the supposed planned meeting. He tried to put a lid on his nerves while facing the man._

"_Am I?" Howard asked, trying to remember. Nothing sprung to mind._

"_Yes. Are you sitting comfortably? Would you like a drink of anything? Some water?"_

"_No, thanks. I'm not thirsty," Howard lied. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was here against his will – and the locked door did nothing to convince him otherwise._

"_Well, if you're sure. Shall we get started, then?"_

"_Er, why exactly am I here? I already had an appointment with Michelle today, she said I'm free until Thursday-"_

"_This is a different appointment, Howard. Just between you and me, yes?"_

"_O-okay," Howard stammered, wiping his clammy palms on his trousers. What reason did he have to be nervous? It was just another appointment in a long sequence of similar appointments. So why did the atmosphere chill him to the bone?_

_Dr. Logan reached into a drawer in his desk, and took something out before placing it on the desk in front of him. Howard saw the glint of silver metal and recognized the blade immediately – it was exactly the same as the one he had under his mattress._

"_How did you find that? Did you go into my room?" Howard's voice was raised, and panic clutched at his gut._

"_I don't know what you're talking about, Howard. Are you telling me you have hidden blades in your room? My, my, the searches aren't very thorough here, are they? I'll have to consult someone about that, it seems security is severely lacking…"_

"_No, I meant… I just meant…"_

_Dr. Logan smiled cruelly, "Of course you did."_

_Howard fell silent, and stared at the floor. There were no carpets down here, just cold stone floors that made your footsteps echo around the room. He hated it._

_What happened next was just a blur, but Howard had relaxed in the chair and Dr. Logan was speaking in a low voice. His words were so harsh and cold, and his voice so tormenting that Howard couldn't help himself._

"…_A failure, Howard Moon, forever a failure. You couldn't protect your parents in that crash, and now you can't protect your friends from the very thing you are most afraid of…" Logan's voice drifted in and out of Howard's head as he reached out a hand for the razor. Whether he was talking about Logan himself, or about their general mental health, Howard wasn't sure, but his words cut deeper than a blade ever could._

"…_Worthless, no good to anyone. Sometimes you must wonder why you were ever born, only to face this miserable existence. Surely your suffering must count for something, correct?"_

_When Howard woke from his dreamlike trance, his hands were stained with blood and he had cuts running from his elbows to his wrists, and Logan was nowhere to be seen._


	8. Chapter 8

**Apologies, guys, 'cause this is more of a filler chapter than anything, but I couldn't leave you hanging, now, could I? More will be happening in the next chapter, I promise! Writing makes me so happy...**

**Thanks again for reviewing! And 4tr3 - thanks for your wonderful comment, it made my night!**

**If you review this chapter I'll give you sweets... I have marshmallows! **

**Disclaimer: I'm BORED of saying this. It's not mine!**

Vince's appointment was going well, or so he thought, for the first fifteen minutes or so. Michelle really was _genius_, she made him feel at ease as soon as he stepped into the room. He wasn't sure why he had been dreading this so much – it wasn't awkward or difficult at all. She told him a bit about the place – apparently this very building was over a century old – and asked him about his family and friends back home. Vince didn't even hesitate to admit that he hadn't actually had many friends, just a few people from his class that he sometimes hung around with at break-times.

"Did you enjoy school, Vince?" Michelle asked somewhat gently.

"It was all right sometimes, I s'pose. I was good at Art. I… I draw stuff."

"That's wonderful," Michelle said, and sounded like she actually meant it, "What do you draw?"

"Er, just stuff in my head, mostly. I don't really do portraits, if you're wonderin'," Vince laughed the question off and refused eye contact.

"Could I take a look at some of your drawings sometime, Vince? Maybe during our next appointment?"

Vince, remembering the last time a psychiatrist had been allowed access to his artwork, and shrugged.

"Only if you don't mind," Michelle clarified, and Vince nodded, once again calmed by the fact that she wasn't too pushy. She was good at this, Vince thought, at making you feel welcome.

"How are you settling in, then?" Michelle asked, about to bring Howard into the conversation, Vince could tell. He didn't answer for a second, momentarily distracted by a movement at the window. A pigeon flew up to the sill and perched there, cocked its head to the side and stared at Vince knowingly.

"I, er… Sorry, what was that?" Vince asked, trying not to seem distracted as he dragged his attention back to the conversation at hand. Michelle smiled.

"I asked how…"

"Hey! Hey, you, open the window and let me in! It's bloody freezing out here!" The pigeon's voice startled Vince even though he had been expecting it, and he cringed away from the window. Michelle frowned at him and turned in her chair to get a better view of what he was looking at.

"Eh?" Vince asked, genuinely trying to concentrate, but the bird carried on.

"I _said _let me in! D'you know what it's like to be outside all the bloody time? Flying doesn't half take it out of you, ya know, it's not all bloody fun and games-"

"Vince? Are you okay?" Michelle asked, confusion tugging at her expression. Vince nodded. Great. Now she thought he was crazy, too. He couldn't seem to do anything right lately.

"Come on, kid, please! It's gonna rain soon, I'm freezin' – whoever came up with the idea of havin' bloody feathers made the wrong decision. I need bloody fur, in this weather…"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Vince cursed, exasperated, and crossed to the window. It wasn't like he could make things much worse.

"Look, mate, you can't come in, all right? Hygiene an' all that. Haven't you thought about accesorizin'? I mean, the slightest things can make a difference – wha' about a pair of boots? C'mon, mate, it's not like you wanna be brandishin' those pins about, is it? No offense or anythin', but they're not exactly something to be proud of, are they? A bit spindly, don'tcha think?"

The pigeon seemed to consider this, glancing down at both legs before cocking its head to the opposite side. Vince raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"That ain't a half bad idea, mate. Thanks – I'll bear that in mind. Still, I've been livin' off scraps for weeks. Surely you've got some grub in there that I can 'ave?"

Vince didn't seem to realize that the pigeon was taking advantage of his trusting and optimistic nature, and glanced back at Michelle pleadingly.

"Do we… Do we have any bread? I think e's hungry," Vince told her. Michelle tried not to widen her eyes, but she had watched the entire conversation and it was a struggle to keep her expression leveled.

"I'll check- I'll check the kitchen," she said, and dashed out of the room before her eyes started playing tricks on her again.

Because it had seemed like that pigeon was _talking back _to Vince. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

XXX

When Vince finally left the office after leaving the bread on the windowsill for the pigeon to peck at, he couldn't help but feel disheartened. There was no chance of him getting out of here now, was there? Not now that Michelle had witnessed for herself just how 'crazy' he actually was.

He went back to his bedroom with his new journal tucked under his arm. Michelle had given it to him and told him to write in it whenever he felt like it – he vaguely remembered Howard mentioning the journals yesterday, but he hadn't really been listening. The cover was plain black and the paper just ordinary lined paper, but it felt good that he had somewhere to draw, since he'd left almost all of his sketch pads at home. First things first, he'd have to customize the front cover – there was no way something that bland could possibly belong to Vince Noir.

Michelle had told him that since he was supposed to be sitting his GCSEs and there was no real reason to stop, he'd have lessons in one of the conference rooms with Howard every weekday. He'd half anticipated this already – although he wasn't exactly eager to carry on with school, he didn't resent the notion as much as he did the thought of sitting around with the others every day. At least it would just be him and Howard. The unit ordered in some private tutor, apparently, so it wasn't as if the whole world would be able to see how stupid he was. He'd failed almost every exam he'd ever sat, not that it really made a difference anymore, since a history of mental health issues wouldn't look very good on his CV anyway. He was just dreading Howard making fun of him – which was inevitable, of course, because Howard already seemed really smart, and Vince had nothing on him.

On a whim, Vince dumped the journal on his bed and went next door to Howard's room, knocking lightly on the door and stepping back to wait for an answer.

"Howard? You in there?" Vince asked, although he had to be – he'd passed the main room before and Howard was nowhere to be seen, and there was nowhere else he could have been apart from the bathroom.

"Howard?"

"Go away, Vince," Howard's voice drifted through the closed door. He sounded shaky, Vince decided.

"Are you all right? D'you want me to get Michelle?"

"No!" Howard panicked, "I'm fine, really! Just- I'll be out in a bit, yeah? I just- Need some space!"

"I'm comin' in," Vince said firmly, and gripped the door handle tightly.

"No! Vince, please, don't-"

Too late. Vince slammed his shoulder into the door and it swung open. Howard had barricaded the entrance with his wardrobe, but it was so empty that it wasn't hard to shift, and Vince easily swept into the room to find his new friend sitting on the bed with his own journal flung open next to him, and… Was that blood?

"Howard? Wh-what's goin' on?"

"I'm fine, Vince, it's nothing, really, just leave me alone, yeah?"

Howard obviously wasn't 'fine', and it made Vince sad to think that someone might have actually heeded his instructions and left him alone. He took a worried step towards Howard's bed and sat down on the edge.

"Vince, why are you still here?" Howard sighed, staring down at the mess in front of him. He wiped the blade clean on his shirt and pocketed it.

"I'm not leavin' you," Vince said stubbornly, frowning. How did this help anyone, he wondered? How could hurting yourself like this make you feel any better?

Maybe he was just naïve, but he couldn't find answers to either question.

"You don't need to see this. Just go. I can clean up myself, I'm fine, I just need-"

"Me to help," Vince put in for him, and smiled.

This time, Howard was going to have someone there for him, no matter what.


	9. Chapter 8 point 5

**Just to be clear - this isn't chapter nine (the one where I promised things would happen) - this is chapter eight point five! This one is dedicated to 4tr3, because you asked for it... I hope it lives up to your expectations... Despite the length, I spent all evening on this (in between French homework). This is just a sort of happy filler chapter until the rest of the stuff gets going.**

**IceySummer - Aaaargh you're killing me! I'm not just saying this, honestly - your writing is awesome. I can't wait for the next instalment! I'm sure other people would love to read it, too, so maybe you should think about publishing it? ;) A girl can dream. Anyways, I look forward to your reviews because they bring me fresh words! You have some serious talent, girl. **

**4tr3 - Don't you go getting all shy on me! Aww, I'm joking, course, but of course I had to mention you after all your love and awesome reviewing! I hope you like your little chapter - I wrote it just for you!**

**I love you guys loads, seriously. **

**Disclaimer: FANfiction! I don't own it!**

Michelle sighed, slamming her biro down on the desk and crossing to the window where she'd watched Vince talking to the pigeon as if it could actually respond. She had been doing this job for ten years now, but nothing had ever gotten to her like this had. Maybe things were finally starting to affect her. Maybe she wasn't immune like she used to be.

Even worse, a migraine was developing right between her eyes.

She had to hold herself together for today. She couldn't fall apart right now, not with Logan's visit just around the corner and four more appointments to attend to. If she was lucky, she could call someone else to cover for her the rest of the day so she could lie down.

Her mobile phone rang, and she tore herself away from the window to answer it, glaring at the screen for a second to work out who was calling before pressing it to her ear. She almost wished she hadn't brought the damn thing to work today. Trust Logan to call at such an inconvenient time.

"Dr. Logan! What a surprise!" Michelle put on her best professional voice and slumped back in her chair.

"Yes, I'm sure. I just wanted to confirm my visit tomorrow. I'll be there as soon as I can – probably just after breakfast if the plane is on time."

"That's great, Dr. Logan," Michelle replied as cheerily as she could muster.

"Yes, quite. I just called to ask – how is the boy doing? Vincent, isn't it?"

_Shit_, Michelle thought. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to forget, exactly, but the last time Logan had visited, things had gone… _wrong_, for a while. She didn't want the same thing happening to the new kid. He seemed like… _sunshine_. She didn't want to sacrifice that.

"Yes, he's doing fine. Just got here yesterday. He's settling in well," Michelle said, neglecting to add 'so don't ruin it'.

"That's good to hear. Well I must dash – I have one more patient to see before I can get back to my hotel. I'll see you tomorrow, hopefully."

"Right, yes. Goodbye, Dr. Logan," Michelle muttered, and slammed the phone down before he had a chance to reply. Running her hands through her already-tousled hair, Michelle sank lower into her seat. The migraine was getting worse.

The knock at the office door sent her reeling, and she nearly knocked the desk over in her struggle to heave herself back in the chair. _You can't break down now. Be strong_, Michelle told herself sternly, collecting herself before calling 'come in!' in as bright a voice as would come out of her tired throat.

The door opened slowly, and Naboo stepped in without a word, and slipped silently into the chair opposite. Michelle was quite content with the silence for a few minutes – her head was pounding, and she could hardly think straight.

"So," she began eventually, "How are things?"

No answer, obviously. Naboo just stared at the spot above her head until she began to tap her fingernails on the desk just to drown out the deafening silence.

The sound seemed to spark a reaction from the boy, and he glanced up as if he was really seeing her for the first time, blinked a few times, and then stared down at his lap for another minute.

"I think my familiar's gone missin'," Naboo lisped. Michelle perked up slightly, glad that he had finally broken the silence, even if it was just to complain about the spider that had been residing in his bedroom for the past two weeks. She had tried to get rid of it four times already, but Naboo had always insisted that it bore some sort of significance as something he called his 'familiar'.

"Why's that?"

"Well he wasn't there this mornin'. I looked everywhere. Under the bed an' everythin'. You haven't seen 'im, have ya?"

"Er, no, sorry," Michelle said, trying not to feel as if she was the one under the spotlight. Sometimes it felt as if their roles were reversed whenever she spoke with Naboo. He made her feel incredibly young and stupid. Then again, he did claim to be over four hundred years old.

"Damn it," Naboo cursed, shaking his head, "I waited ages for that model to arrive in the post. Had some great features, ya know? Funny that it didn't say 'has a tendency to run off on ya' on the label."

Michelle couldn't help but smile, although she tried to disguise it. She felt close to the kids sometimes, although she had told herself thousands of times that she should distance herself. They'd helped her get though countless bad days, and she'd done the same, or at least she hoped she had.

"It's no laughin' matter, I paid fifty euros for that."

"Right," she agreed solemnly, and didn't ask where he had gotten the money from. Naboo just sighed.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss?" Michelle asked, preparing her pen and paper. All that she had on there so far was a tiny drawing of Vince with the pigeon and a note to herself that she needed to stock up on milk.

"Yeah, there is, actually," he said, all business. Michelle's heart leapt, "D'you know where I could get another familiar? They don't come cheap, ya know. Know of any good discount stores?"

"I meant is there anything... Oh, never mind. I'm sorry, honey, but I don't know of any places like that. Maybe you could ask someone else?"

"Nah, doesn't matter. I was thinkin' of adoptin' Bollo as my new familiar anyway."

Michelle didn't want to know, so she didn't ask. Instead, she began to doodle a large flower at the bottom of her legal pad and listened to Naboo talking about how Vince's arrival had ruined his latest potion. He'd been mixing stuff from meals with water from the bathrooms ever since she could remember, and rushing around the place so that they would be in their optimum conditions. She'd learned not to question it. She just prayed that he never tried to drink his nasty concoctions – some of them looked like they might be able to do some serious harm.

The appointment flew by, and by the end, Michelle wondered where time had gone. She felt glad that she'd got the boy to open up, even though she hadn't gotten anything from him that might help her annual report.

XXX

The dance music that blasted from the radio made Michelle want to curl up in a fetal position on the ground and rock herself gently. Nevertheless, she stayed glued to her swivel chair and tried to block the noise out, and to ignore the stars that were exploding in front of her eyes. She really needed to lie down, even though time simply didn't allow it.

Fossil stopped his sensual dancing as soon as the radio stopped piping out the awful tune, slammed himself down in his seat (which made it rocket backwards into the wall, then ricochet straight off again in the rebound) and stated, "And that's why my mom thinks I died in Vietnam!"

Michelle tangled her fingers in her hair and took deep breaths to keep from tearing it out at the roots. How she managed to deal with this every day, she had no idea. She didn't point out that he was too young to have seen the Vietnamese war, never mind to fight in it.

"Right. And aside from the dance number, was there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Oh, yeah," the American remembered, grinning, "Did Vincey mention me?"

She sighed. This had happened once already – Fossil had grown overly attached to Naboo at one point. Vince's arrival seemed to have steered him away from him, but she couldn't be sure.

"I was thinking more of something _important._ Anything happen that you'd like to discuss?"

"You mean like when I tripped over Bollo when I was going to the bathroom?"

"Erm, no…" Michelle gave up, "It doesn't matter. You might as well go to lunch now," she decided, checking her watch. Almost noon. Definitely time to call it a day.


	10. Chapter 9

**It's a long one, guys!**

**Disclaimer - NOT MINE!**

Three rolls of toilet roll and two trips to the bathroom later, Howard's bedroom looked almost respectable again. Nobody spoke while they cleaned up – Vince couldn't think of a single thing to say that could possibly make the situation any better, and any questions that he did have would probably just make Howard clam up again. Instead, Vince kept his head down and scrubbed at a bloodstain on the floor.

"I can do that," Howard said eventually, after a long moment of simply staring into space. Vince shook his head too quickly.

"It's fine. I've almost got it now, look, s'nearly clean," he insisted without looking up. He kept scrubbing. The toilet paper he was using was scrunched up so tight that the material had a large tear in the middle and had worn away in several places. Vince couldn't bring himself to grab a new piece.

"Vince… thank you," Howard said, finally looking down at the younger boy, who didn't answer, "I'm sorry I…"

"Look, don't apologize, all right? S'nothing to do with me anyway. But why… why d'you do it?"

"It's complicated."

"Yeah, I thought you'd say somethin' like that. Did somethin' happen?"

"Sort of."

Vince rolled his eyes, his head still angled downwards so Howard wouldn't see, "Right, well the floor's clean. I'm just gonna go an'-" Before he could make up a valid excuse, Howard reached out to grab his arm.

"Stay. Please." The way he said it, it sounded almost… desperate. Vince stopped on his way to the door.

"Er, alright," he said awkwardly, and perched on the bed next to Howard. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly.

"You should probably get those cuts seen to. Patch 'em up a bit," Vince commented when he decided he couldn't stand it anymore. Howard nodded glumly.

"Doesn't matter. Listen, I need to talk to you, about-"

Unfortunately, Michelle chose that exact moment to yell that lunch was ready, and Howard froze, stood up, and abruptly left the room.

Vince sighed, and got up to follow, when he realized that his friend had left his journal lying open on the bed. How could he resist?

He had to take a peek. Although the voice in his head screamed that it was wrong, that he shouldn't betray his friend's trust like this… the temptation of all his secrets spread out like this for everyone to see was irresistible.

The page the journal was open to had quite clearly just been scribbled – the ink was still fresh and had blotted in places. Vince had to hold the book up to the light to make out the words – the writing was rushed and the print was tiny. Trust Howard to be uncomfortable and awkward even when writing.

_Everything's falling apart again, _the first line read, _trust this place to ruin everything. Everyone here gets broken at some point – it was always inevitable. I hate to admit it, but I'm scared. This happens at least three times a year, yet I've never been this frightened, except for maybe the first time, before I understood things properly. I can't stand to sit around and watch this happen again, not to him. He doesn't deserve this. There's nothing I can do. I feel so hopeless. Michelle asked me to look out for him, but what the hell can I do? I can't even look out for myself._

The entry was short, and ended there. If anything, this just intensified Vince's confusion and curiosity. He flipped back to the page before to find his own name at the top of the entry.

_Vince got here today. He seems okay – nice, even. But I don't trust my own judgment anymore, not after… Anyway, I don't want to jump to conclusions. He seemed all right. I think I might've freaked him out when we were talking. He didn't say anything about it, at least. He's not like the others. We managed to hold an entire conversation without someone drifting off or wandering away to look at something bright. Makes a change, in here. I don't know if he's going to fit in. I don't even know why his parents brought him here – I watched them pull up and get out of the car out of the window. I feel sorry for him. I don't know how he's ever going to get used to this place. It took me nearly six months. I'm not even sure how long he plans to stay._

Vince read the entire thing and then slammed the book shut. He didn't particularly want to find out any more of what Howard really thought of him. He thought he was weak. He thought he couldn't get used to change. Well, Vince would show him. Sure now that in the latest entry, Howard had been talking about _him, _he was determined that this place wasn't going to 'break him'. He would be just fine.

He repeated that several times before heaving himself off the bed and striding through to the dining room.

XXX

The afternoon was exhausting. Who knew that sitting around watching TV could be this tiring, Vince thought to himself as he glanced towards Naboo, who was flicking channels carelessly. The bursts of conversation from the screen were giving him a headache.

Vince was itching to figure out what was going on – because sometime between Howard's appointment and his own, something had changed. The tension had risen in the air, and even Michelle couldn't hide her anxiety when she sat down with them and flipped through her files, occasionally writing things down and paying them no attention whatsoever. She left the room briefly to hold a telephone conversation, but apart from that, didn't say a word the whole time.

"There's nuffin on," Naboo finally groaned, abandoning the remote control next to him. Vince snatched it and turned the TV off.

"Whaddya do that for?" Naboo complained, and Vince shrugged.

"Nobody was watchin' it anyway-"

"I was!"

"You just said there was nothin' on! Make your mind up!"

"There _is _nuffin on – doesn't mean you can just turn it off without askin'! Needs to be a bit of background noise around 'ere else it'll just be the clock tickin' an' nuffin else!"

Vince was alarmed that Naboo had actually managed to create such a well balanced argument, and surrendered the remote without thinking. He turned to Howard.

"What do you usually do around 'ere all day, then?"

"We're supposed to be with the tutor Monday to Friday, but at weekends we just…"

"Sit there?"

"No!" Howard took offense to this, and looked around desperately, "Er… Why don't you read a book or something?" He pointed to a pile of scruffy paperbacks on a shelf, and Vince tried not to visibly shudder. There was only one book he was interested in reading, anyway.

"I'll pass on that, thanks," he muttered, "Can't we do somethin' _fun_?"

"Like… like what?"

"I dunno, anythin'! Anythin' that isn't just sittin' 'ere starin' at the walls!"

"You could go for a walk," Michelle suggested, glancing up at the sound of Vince's raised voice, "I'm sure Howard could show you the gardens?"

Howard tensed at this, but Vince wasn't letting it go.

"Yeah, that'd be genius! C'mon, Howard, let's go!"

"I don't think…"

"Aw, come _on_! I'm _bored._"

Howard rolled his eyes and nodded stiffly, "Fine. Half an hour, okay? It's raining."

Vince didn't care. Quality time with Howard meant answers. And answers brought him one step closer to finding out what Howard had been talking about in his journal.

And besides, he couldn't stand to be in that room a second longer.

XXX

The 'gardens' were actually just a big space, half covered by a glass roof and half completely outside, with a greenhouse area where, Howard explained, you could grow your own plants if you felt like it, and a few boxes of soil with drooping flowers in the center.

"This is rubbish," Vince said miserably as they trudged through the aisles of flowers. Everything was either dead or dying around here – the roses next to him were so wilted that it was hard to distinguish between them and a pile of dead leaves that had been raked into a pile in the corner.

"It's not at its best, I'll admit, but you should see it in summer, sir!" Howard insisted enthusiastically. Vince groaned inwardly.

"You gonna be a gardener, then?"

Howard blushed, "God, no."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to be a famous jazz musician, sir," he announced proudly, puffing out his chest. Vince made sure that his hair covered his face to hide the laughter bubbling to his lips.

"Course you are," he mumbled, "Can you actually play any instruments?"

"Howard Moon is a multi-instrumentalist, sir. You name it, I can play it."

"Ri-i-ight," Vince said, "Drums?"

"No."

"Bass?"

"N-no."

"Guitar?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed loudly, relieved, "I've played guitar for three years."

"Cool," Vince told him, and meant it, "Keyboard?"

"Yeah. I had lessons ages ago. I can still remember some of them, although I haven't practiced in ages…"

"You should hold little concerts, y'know? Hey, we could be in a band! That'd be _genius_!"

"Me and you? In a- a band?"

"Yeah! I can see it now – a new form of electro mixed with jazz! It'd be great. Although normal jazz brings me out in a rash."

"You- Are you saying you're _allergic _to jazz? Are you insane?"

Vince just cackled, "Apparently!" he beamed, and skipped backwards a few steps before nearly tripping over a plant box.

"Shit!" he cursed, blushing profusely, "Anyway, what do you say? We could take over the music industry! We could get a record deal, it'd be _amazin'_! Our names in lights, all over Camden-"

"Camden? I was thinking of broadening our horizons a bit – America, y'know?"

"We could take over the entire world if we wanted to!" Vince grinned.

"Can you play anything?" Howard asked suddenly, frowning. Vince shook his head, hair flying everywhere.

"Nah, but I'd be on vocals, wouldn't I?" Vince sang a line from something he'd heard on the radio loudly and off-key, then collapsed into laughter again.

"Howard?" he asked when he'd sobered up, "What was it that you were gonna tell me before, in your bedroom? Before Michelle interrupted?"

"Oh, er, I was going to… I just wanted to tell you that-" A clap of thunder cut Howard off before he could continue, and both boys ducked into the nearest greenhouse for cover. Vince watched Howard with his intense blue eyes, frowning slightly. Howard looked at his innocent expression and couldn't bring himself to warn Vince about Dr. Logan.

"Just… watch out, okay? Don't let your guard down," Howard said mysteriously. Another loud bellow from the sky, and a flash of lightening made him glance up at the windows.

"Shit! I've gotta go, come on!" he yelled suddenly, and ducked out of the greenhouse. Vince couldn't have been more confused – he sprinted after the Northerner without a second thought, catching up to him as he neared the doors that would lead back inside.

"What's goin' on?"

"There's a storm!" Howard said, as if this answered Vince's question. He looked at him blankly as they raced towards the stairwell.

"Yeah, I can see that, thanks. So what?"

"Naboo tends to… freak out sometimes. I think it's the thunder, makes him go… crazy." The word was merely a whisper, "He says it messes up his Shaman powers. I know what you're thinking, Vince." How could he not? It was painted clearly on his face.

"I'm not thinkin' anythin'!" Vince insisted. He was still trying to comprehend what exactly had happened outside.

Howard didn't stop – as soon as they reached their floor, he burst through the double doors and jogged down the corridor to find Naboo in a trance, cringing away from the windows and making a strange keening sound. Vince covered his ears and backed away, alarmed.

"Fuckin' hell…" Vince muttered, trying to think over the racket.

Howard didn't seem to be helping much – he just dragged Naboo away from the window and managed to make him sit down. He stopped keening and mumbled nonsense to no-one in particular, making hand gestures as he had yesterday. Michelle was looking on desperately, seeking a solution to the madness.

Maybe Howard had been right. Maybe this place would break Vince, he thought miserably as he watched the odd scene play out.

XXX

"I've always been able to calm him down, I suppose," Howard told Vince later, when the thunder had died down and the only sound was the rain pattering against the windows, "It's weird. This only ever happens when…"

"When what?" Vince asked, wondering if this had something to do with earlier. Howard shook his head, looking away.

"I mean, the storms only ever come when…"

"Howard, what are you not tellin' me?" Vince asked bluntly. Howard wouldn't answer.

"Nothing."

"There's somethin', I can see it in your beady eyes!" Vince cried out, almost triumphant. Howard shook his head.

"No. Nothing. All I wanted to tell you is to watch out… Be on your guard. It's just this place, it's… Well, you can see for yourself."

"Right. What exactly am I 'watchin' out' for?"

"You always have to ask questions, don't you?" Howard snapped, then caught himself, "Sorry. It doesn't matter. Just let it drop, yeah?"

"Fine," Vince said curtly, "I'm goin' to bed. Night."

"No, Vince, wait!" Howard yelped, charging after him when he stood and made his way down the corridor.

"What?"

"Will you do me a favour?"

"Depends what it is."

"Would you sleep in my room tonight?"

Vince snorted, "Why?"

"Please, no questions. Just trust me on this, please?"

Vince just frowned, "I'm 'avin' the bed," he muttered, and stormed off down the corridor, flinging open his own door to rummage for pyjamas. When he was satisfied that he couldn't put it off any longer, he went through to Howard's room to find him sitting on the floor with a guitar in his hands.

"What're you doin'?" Vince asked, watching Howard strum a few chords once he'd thrown himself on the bed.

"Playing."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? I'm just practicing."

"'Kay." Vince flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

"Is this allowed?" he wondered eventually, "Sharin' a room?"

"I suppose. There's no rule against it, anyway. And anyway, Michelle asked if I would-" Howard didn't seem to be able to stop himself tonight. He managed to refrain from blurting something just in time, and Vince didn't push it.

"Will you play me somethin'? To help me sleep?" Vince asked, without adding _to keep away the nightmares._ Howard shrugged.

"I've never really played in front of anyone before…"

"Aw, come on, Howard, please? It's just me!" Vince gave him his best impression of puppy dog eyes and Howard surrendered.

"Fine," he replied rigidly, and strummed the strings nervously. Vince lay there and let the music wash over him, slightly surprised when Howard began to sing softly.

Vince didn't recognize the song, but it didn't matter. It was gentle enough to constitute a lullaby, and he drifted off to sleep even though the bedside lamp was still switched on, unaware that Dr. Logan pulled up three hours later in a private car, unaware that he made his way into his private laboratory in the basement and set up for his latest experiment, even unaware that it was being set up for him.


	11. Chapter 10

**Apologies for the length of this chapter, guys - it's pretty short, but I'm going to be out for most of the weekend so I wanted to post this quickly... It's more of a half-chapter, more than anything.**

**IceySummer - I promise, I WILL update Hitched soon, I just haven't really had any inspiration for it at the moment. I'll try to post something this weekend, okay? And thanks for your reviews - I'm so glad I cheered you up a bit! I'm always here to talk, if you need someone.**

**4tr3 - I can't even begin to thank you for telling me that you like my writing! Aside from FanFiction and a thing that my English teacher read last year, I've never really written for an audience before, so it's great to have some feedback! And I'm very glad that you liked your chapter ;)**

**Lion Seal - Gahhhh thank you so much! Your comment made me blush :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it, okay? **

Howard woke up drenched in sweat, and it took a good five minutes to convince himself that he was not in any imminent danger, that the only thing threatening to 'do him in' was the uncomfortable floor. He had fallen asleep half-propped against the wall, with a thin blanket tossed over him, the only shield from the bad weather and the cold leaking in from under the door, which he had barricaded again just in case, after making sure that Vince was definitely asleep. He didn't want him freaking out when he realized that they were trapped in this room together.

Howard's limbs protested when he hoisted himself into a sitting position, almost knocking over the guitar from where he'd stood it against the wall last night. Vince didn't stir, not even when he whacked his side on the bedside table when he clambered to his feet awkwardly and noisily.

Howard watched the younger boy sleeping for a few seconds, checked that his alarm clock wasn't about to screech and frighten both of them, and searched for clothes to take through to the bathroom with him. Not that he was leaving yet – he didn't want to leave Vince alone for even a second, not with _him _lurking downstairs somewhere. He silently and efficiently set the alarm for nine o' clock instead of eight, so that Vince would be spared another hour of being awake in this awful place, and perched on the edge of the bed because he really didn't think he could face lying down on the floor again, even though he'd set out some pillows and the extra duvet from Vince's room. He didn't regret asking Vince to stay in his room, though – on the contrary, it meant he could watch out for him, since Howard was a light sleeper anyway. The slightest sound could wake him – it had always been a curse before, but now he was glad of it. The lamp had remained switched on all night – Howard was surprised Vince hadn't commented, or made a scathing remark. He flicked it off now without thinking – enough natural light was leaking under the door for him to relax. It was half past seven – another hour and a half of waiting for Vince to wake up, and then he'd have to leave the safety of his bedroom to see what fresh horrors awaited them both when they would inevitably meet with Logan.

Howard had met the man exactly eleven times, and each meeting had brought with it this feeling of dread and inconsolable fear. He had tried hiding from him, only to have Logan invade the privacy of his bedroom with his calm yet hostile words, that made Howard hate himself even more than usual. He wasn't strong enough not to turn to the blade underneath his mattress whenever Logan visited. He wasn't strong enough to ignore the burning hatred for both Logan and himself.

XXX

_The garden never did get better, despite what he had told Vince. The first time Logan came around it was summer, and although the flowers were beginning to bloom and the sun was shining, everything around him still felt dead, still had an air of staleness about it. It had been his first time out of the main building since he'd arrived, and he was glad of the fresh air, if nothing else. Michelle had taken them outside to escape from Dr. Logan for a few minutes herself, to escape from the persistent questioning and the cold words. He had gone down to the basement to see to something, and they had all but sprinted to the gardens._

_Nobody had spoken for at least twenty minutes, but that was the norm. Naboo was probably in one of his trances, Howard thought bitterly. If only he found it so easy to drift off away from here, if only he could shut out reality as quickly as the others could. He found himself kicking up dirt as he walked stoically along the path after them._

"_Somethin's wrong," Naboo said suddenly, stopping still. Michelle frowned down at him, concern glinting in her warm green eyes._

"_What do you mean, honey?" she asked, trying not to seem to worried. Naboo didn't answer immediately – he cast a wary glance back to the building as if checking that they were truly alone before he opened his mouth to speak again._

"_Somethin's wrong with Bollo," he elaborated, pointing at the other boy, who was crawling alongside them. He didn't react to his name. _Strange, _Howard thought, _even he usually responds to that.

_Michelle had shaken the comment off, but Howard hadn't forgotten, and he didn't think Naboo had, either. Later on that evening, when the others were sleeping and Michelle had gone home, leaving them in the care of the night wardens, Howard had snuck out of his room carrying a torch that he always had for emergencies, and located the nearest stairwell. He had to find out what was going on, even though fear was clenching at his gut and he lost his footing more than twice whilst navigating his way downstairs. It would attract to much attention to use the lift, he'd reasoned. The clanking of the old machine would bring someone looking, and besides, he wasn't sure he could survive that long in an enclosed space without any company, and couldn't stand the thought of the doors creaking open and revealing something terrifying._

_Still, the stairs felt unusually slippery as he tiptoed down – or was that the horror movies he'd been forced to watch by the other kids at the foster home creeping up on him? Darkness was petrifying at the best of times, and now with thoughts of ghosts creeping up on him and locking their hands around his throat, Howard had to jog to keep from turning back, somehow certain he'd find something behind him._

_The bottom floor lobby was empty, just as he'd hoped. If he ran into a warden now he'd have to pretend he was sleepwalking, although remembering to pick up a torch and switch it on whilst sleeping seemed far fetched even to him. He could always plead insanity, he thought dryly._

_Howard knew how to pick locks – it was one of the many things he'd learned sneaking around with Deena and the others, after the horrible incident that had left him in hospital for almost a week. He tried not to dwell on that too much as he fumbled with the door that lead to the office. They'd beaten him so badly that he could hardly move, and left him in the middle of the road. A car could have swerved around the corner too quickly and not noticed him – it was pitch black outside, another reason he hated the dark – but luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it) the road was empty and an old woman had found him in time to call for an ambulance. She'd scolded him for being drunk, and he couldn't even protest, he was in too much pain to speak. He couldn't explain to her that the only alcohol he'd ever consumed was a sip of wine at a Christmas party years ago, from his father's glass. He could do nothing but lie there and moan occasionally until the ambulance arrived._

_Six days later, when he had been released, Deena had refused to let the incident drop. He'd lied and told them it was a random attack, just some drunks on the street. The social worker had seen through it, but hadn't pressed the issue, knowing it would only bring Howard more trouble if he did. _

"_Don't you see what happens when you tell on us, Howie? Don't you think it's better just to be our friend? Just think of all the fun we could have together, Howie. C'mon, just drink this, you'll feel better…" He'd taken the vodka and downed it in one, although he was only just thirteen at the time. He had been their friend for the next few weeks, until he couldn't stand it anymore – sneaking out every night to raid local houses where innocent pensioners resided, rummaging through drawers and jewelry boxes until they found the most valuable stuff to sell on. Drinking well into the night, arriving at school the next day completely hung over. He had refused the drugs, though, although there were certainly enough to go around. A couple of smokes every few days, and they let it drop. He never told on them again – by then, he'd learned to turn it in on himself, because snitching did no good. When it had all gotten too much – when they had ransacked the poor woman's house, the woman who had saved him, Howard returned to the foster home feeling sick to his stomach, repulsed by what he had become. He had gone into Deena's room and found the stash of heroin she kept under her bed for good measure. He knew how easy it was to overdose, and this was a blessing. He wouldn't have to stay here any longer. He could pay for what he'd done, he could… _

_He'd felt himself slipping away so quickly that it was almost over, he could almost see the end… And someone had come to his rescue once again, because in a foster home, you were never truly alone. Another long hospital stay – nearly a month, this time – and then everyone collectively decided that it would be a good idea to send him to the psychiatric unit. Best for everyone, they'd said. Howard didn't agree. He craved death, didn't want to carry on, didn't want to help himself. _

_He shoved the thoughts away as he felt the lock give under his fingers, and he pushed the door open tentatively. The filing cabinet was kept at the back of the room, secured with a heavy padlock, which Howard was easily able to unlock. He opened the drawer silently, and began to search for Bollo's file, just to find out what was going on… His heart stopped when he finally found it and flipped it open. Words leapt out from the page, etched into Howard's mind forever._

'_Full-frontal lobotomy', and 'erratic behavior' and 'desensitized'. _

_He'd closed the file and put it back where he found it and put the lock back in place and turned to the door and- And stopped. Because who should be standing in the doorway other than the infamous Dr. Logan?_


	12. Chapter 11

**I can only apologise for not uploading this sooner, but I have a legit excuse! I was ill all last weekend, after a disastrous Saturday, and then since Wednesday I've been preparing for a French oral exam (it went well, by the way!) and today I was out with the folks, so... I really need to update Hitched as well, but that can wait until tomorrow/next week, because it's almost one... Oh, I thought it was two. Still. It can wait! I was up at half past eight this morning (early!) waiting for a friend to come over, only to have her cancel on me. So, yeah, I'm pretty annoyed about that, actually. And tired. Sorry about the long A/N, it's more like a bloomin' blog entry than an author's note. I have a blog for that!**

**Disclaimer: None of it's mine, except the story and stuff. Ooooh and Logan. Logan is miiiiine. I'm not sure I want him.**

**I'll try to update this and Hitched really soon! Promise!**

Howard winced as the alarm clock screamed. The memory still clung to his skin, making his heart pound and his chest seize up. Vince stirred on the bed and Howard leapt up like he'd been burned. He'd almost forgotten that the younger boy was there.

"Vince, you're awake!" Howard said a little too loudly. Vince rubbed his eyes sleepily and yawned.

"Yeah, I am, thanks to that bloody alarm," he grumbled, turning over and hiding his face in the pillow.

"Sorry," Howard apologized. He should have turned it off completely, let Vince wake up of his own accord. He shouldn't have been so bloody _selfish_, again, because the truth was, he couldn't stand to be alone.

Vince didn't reply, just rolled off the bed and looked around drowsily.

"Why did you want me to sleep in here, again?" he asked, knowing that Howard wouldn't be able to resist answering him now – he was putty in the palm of Vince's hands. He already felt bad about waking him, and about… whatever the hell was going on.

"Because… There's… It's hard to explain, Vince. Really hard."

"It can't be that hard, Howard! Is there some kind of stalker goin' round or somethin'? Is that why you barricaded the door?" Vince couldn't resist. Howard flushed.

"How did you… You weren't supposed to know about that!"

"I saw you, pushin' the wardrobe against the door! I thought it was well creepy, but then you just went to sleep. Forgot to turn the light off, an' all." The last remark seemed innocent enough, so Howard let it drop.

"Someone's coming today," Howard finally said, and Vince raised his eyebrows, expecting more. When Howard didn't offer any sort of explanation for this, Vince pressed on.

"So?"

"So… he's bad, Vince."

"Ri-i-ight," Vince stretched the word out patronizingly, "Who is 'he' then?"

"His name's Dr. Logan. He's a sort of resident doctor here, but he travels a lot…"

"Okay. So what's he got to do with you practically kidnappin' me and holdin' me hostage in your room?"

"I didn't-!" Howard's face was properly scarlet now, and Vince couldn't help feeling bad. He laughed it off, remembering at the last second that patting his friend's arm wouldn't help.

"I'm jokin', you berk. Go on. Why are you so scared of him?"

Howard actually had to think for a moment, attempting to censor his reply for Vince's sake. He wasn't sure how to make it better without making it seem as if Logan wasn't actually a threat.

"He's… dangerous, Vince. Whenever he turns up, things go… bad."

"Bad how?"

"Y'know. Dark. Frightening. He has a laboratory downstairs, and he… conducts… experiments, down there."

Vince actually paled, and didn't laugh this time. Instead, he marched resolutely to the door and yanked it open.

"I'm gonna get ready."

"Wait, Vince!" Howard called, making a move to go after him, "Wear something… inconspicuous." Howard was about to define the word for Vince's benefit when the younger boy cut him off.

"I know what it means! I'm not a complete imbecile! I just don't know why you're actin' so weird! Surely this guy can't be _that _bad, Howard?"

"You haven't met him."

"Well, I'm not sure I own anything 'inconspicuous'," Vince said, and before Howard could open his mouth, "And no, I am _not_ borrowing one of your shirts!"

XXX

Dr. Logan wasn't set to officially arrive until after breakfast, so the meal, obviously, was a tense one. Michelle had decided against calling in sick because of the dire circumstances, and sat at the table with the others with an ice pack pressed to her forehead and nursing something that looked suspiciously like a hangover, but which she insisted was a migraine.

Howard wished that Sundays would just go back to being boring. Even Vince would have preferred to be sitting in front of the TV like yesterday rather than staring into his bland bowl of cereal with waves of stress rolling off the others and making his shoulders all tense. He'd straightened his hair best he could, but the bad vibes he was getting were making it all frizzy. And frizzy hair was _not _good.

The outfit he'd gone for was surprisingly _inconspicuous_, as Howard had put it. A pair of black skinny jeans and a dark t-shirt. He'd even neglected his make-up this morning (okay, he'd put on a little eyeliner, just to be safe) and swapped his shiny boots for the pair of dull shoes that his dad had picked. He looked almost _normal_, or at least whatever 'normal' meant in his father's eyes.

"Okay, guys, as I'm sure you're all aware… This is a big day for all of us, okay?" Michelle addressed the group after taking a long swig of orange juice, "Dr. Logan's coming to visit. He's planning to stay for a couple of days, so I want you all on your best behavior, all right?" The undercurrent of concern and fear in Michelle's voice was apparent even to Bollo, who sat under the table chewing on the chair legs, "That means…" _Oh, hell, even _I _don't know what it means, _Michelle thought desperately, "It means to keep your heads down. And to be careful."

XXX

Everything was going to plan. His plane hadn't even been delayed. He'd arrived at around midnight, and took his limousine to the unit. His driver hadn't bothered with pleasantries, which suited Logan just fine. He was past the point where he cared about being polite. Small talk had become a chore.

He'd gone straight to the lab, although he'd only had an hour's sleep on the plane, to set up for the following day. He'd evaluate the new boy first, take a few notes – observation was the hardest part, really. He'd already read over the boy's file on the way over, and he was pretty sure that he had all the necessary facts down. This in mind, he set up the machines carefully around a central gurney before napping for a few hours in his own office.

He would go up when the children had finished breakfast. He would chat to them, and they would pretend that they weren't afraid of him, and then he would take notes before luring the boy Vince down to his office. It would all run smoothly, he knew. It always did.

XXX

Howard was actually _shaking _when Logan finally rode the elevator up to their floor and entered the area where they were sitting and pretending to watch reruns of an old sitcom on television. Vince was snuggled as close to the older boy as was possible without him enforcing the 'don't touch me!' rule, which wasn't nearly close enough.

"Good morning!" Logan greeted the group with a cheery smile and the jovial statement which couldn't have been more false.

There were a few mumbled 'morning's, and Fossil actually leapt from his seat to forcibly attach himself to Logan's calf, meaning that the doctor had to drag him across the floor in order to move. It seemed that his hero-worshipping stretched further than his obsession with Vince.

"Yes, hello Robert," Logan said bemusedly as he made his way carefully to the couch. Gideon and Naboo, who had been sitting closest to the TV scuttled away quickly, easily and swiftly clearing a space for the doctor to sit down.

"How are you all?"

Nobody replied. The only sound was the long and deliberate noise of Fossil licking Logan's hand. He efficiently moved it out of the boy's reach and clasped his hands together in his lap.

"Good morning, Dr. Logan!" Michelle bustled into the room with a piece of toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. She offered the coffee to the doctor, who took it, thanking her quietly.

"Ah, Michelle. I was wondering if I could, ah, have a word?"

_Oh no, _Michelle thought darkly, _I've really dropped myself in it here._

Still, she went through to the corridor with him after detaching Fossil, who clung to his ankle like a limpet and had to be restrained by Howard. Michelle braced herself for the 'they seem to have gone downhill since my last visit' lecture, but it never came.

"I see that the, ah, _treatment _seems to be going smoothly," he smiled. Michelle shrugged.

"Yes, it's been great," she improvised, because she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. He'd prescribed all sorts of colourful and, quite frankly, useless pills to various patients, and then there was the sessions down in his lab… Grasping that he seemed to be talking about Bollo, who was quiet as ever and practically unresponsive (but probably better than he used to be, in all honesty, because she hadn't missed him running around the place beating his hands on his chest and making primitive ape noises), Michelle prepared the appropriate response.

"I really think you made the right decision, going through with the operation," Michelle lied quickly, because it was really just better to agree with him, "There's been a definite improvement."

"Yes, well," Logan said modestly, "I just hope we'll have the same amount of success with our latest patient. I'll get him down to the lab as soon as possible… You don't have any plans for the day, do you?"

_Hmm, plans, _Michelle mused, _I remember plans. I remember being able to make arrangements. When I had a social life, remember that? _Grasping he meant plans for the patients, she shook her head.

"Nothing today, doctor."

"That's good. See that they stay out of trouble, then, and I'll take a few notes."

XXX

Two hours of sitting awkwardly in the main area, and everyone was instructed to go back to their own rooms for an hour. Howard tried to get Vince's attention as they walked into the corridor together, but Logan was so close behind that it was impossible to get his attention without alerting the doctor. He shuffled his feet, stalling for a few seconds outside his door before glancing over at Vince, who refused to meet his gaze.

"Well… see you later," Howard muttered, without adding _I hope._ He slowly opened the door to his room, willing Vince to look up at him just to show that he understood what the older boy was getting at, but he didn't, so Howard disappeared inside and flopped down on the bed. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, not with Logan watching. He felt truly hopeless.

XXX

Vince stared at the wall for at least five minutes before realizing he had to do something. If Logan was going to be 'observing' him (he'd overheard him talking with Michelle outside) he'd have to act normal. He'd been trying to be normal for his parents forever, and he hadn't even been able to convince them, so how the hell would he be able to convince a trained professional who would be watching him like a hawk?

Finally, Vince drew out his journal and flipped it open to the first page. He wasn't going to write anything in it, he decided – it wasn't as if he was very good with words anyway – so he would draw instead. He retrieved a pack of pencils from one of his bags and sat on the bed with his knees tucked into his chest, tongue sticking out, and began to sketch.

It was twenty minutes later that Logan entered the room.

He peered casually over Vince's shoulder, and despite his best efforts to hide the book, caught a glimpse of what he had been drawing – the building from the outside, but without the boring grey walls and vacant parking spaces, and instead a bustling central hub of entertainment – a band playing somewhere near the car park, some children messing around by a swing set that he'd envisioned, the gardens in full bloom, and, if you looked hard enough, a small, pink creature made from bubble gum lurked at the back of the picture, beside the entrance gates. Logan looked wistfully at the drawing before addressing Vince.

"How are you finding things here?"

Vince managed to choke out a reply, "Erm, they're- Good!" he stammered carefully, trying his best to put on an ordinary front, "Everyone's really nice!" he squeaked the last part, staring down at the floor.

"What are you drawing, Vince?" Logan asked the question just as his father had all those months ago, and Vince struggled to answer coherently.

"Just… Nothing."

"It's good," Logan commented, smiling falsely. Vince smiled weakly.

"Thanks."

"So you like to draw, then, Vince?" Logan asked. He already knew – it was in Noir's file. He just needed to get the kid on his side.

"Yeah, drawing's genius!" Vince blurted. Logan smiled, more warmly this time.

"That's good. Vince, I'd like to talk with you in my office, downstairs, if you don't mind?"

Vince froze. This was exactly what Howard had warned him about. But Logan was a professional, wasn't he? He was here to help… and this was exactly why his parents had sent him here, after all. For making up stories in his head that weren't true. And this _certainly_ wasn't true, because psycho-doctors in mental asylums only occurred in horror films. He had to trust Logan. These people were his only chance of ever getting out of here and having a normal life.

So he got up from the bed and followed Logan to the end of the corridor to the elevator, unaware of the pairs of eyes watching him go.

XXX

The basement was darker than Vince had expected it to be. There were no windows, obviously, and the only lighting down there was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. He tried not to visibly shudder as Logan led him through a set of doors and into a large room with fans whirring overhead, which, Logan explained, helped to keep the air down here fresh so that it didn't get stuffy. Vince didn't want to think about it – he felt claustrophobic already. Years of hiding in cupboards to eavesdrop had taught him that he wasn't supposed to let on that your breathing was getting heavy, because someone would open the cupboard door and find you rummaging through the biscuit tin and drag you out by your collar.

Logan didn't lead Vince through to an office, though. The large room opened up into what must be the lab Howard had described. He wondered, to keep away the fear more than anything, if the other boy had been down here, and what had happened.

"What are you gonna-"

"Shh, now, Vince," Logan told him gently, maneuvering him over to a metal trolley that sat in the center of the room. Vince couldn't move his legs of his own accord, so he could do nothing to stop Logan propelling him forwards.

"Lie down, Vince," Logan told him. Vince didn't move – it was as if he was rooted to the ground by invisible wires. Logan sighed.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Whichever you choose, the end result will be you lying down on that gurney. So which will it be?"

Vince thought quickly of all the things his parents had told him. That he had an overactive imagination. That he was living in a fantasy world. That he needed to man up and face the world around him. He believed them, as well. This was for his own sake more than it was theirs, he told himself sternly as he forced his numb legs to move so he could sit down on the edge of the gurney, this was going to make him normal.

Logan smiled when Vince obeyed, a genuine smile this time, "That's good, Vince. Now just wait here for a second while I just…" Logan practically skipped over to the other side of the room while Vince just stared up at the ceiling. _Nothing bad is going to happen_, he thought, _it'd be against the law for something bad to happen. The place would get sued. This isn't the nineteenth century. It'll be fine._ But even as he flooded his mind with positive thoughts, fear clutched at his gut and made him feel as if he was about to be sick. Adrenaline was flowing through him – he was fighting the instinct to run as far away from here as he could get.

"You're doing really well, Vince. Not long now…" Logan was still talking, trying to be reassuring, but his words just intensified the need to get away. Vince thought of Howard, and what he had told him that morning. Maybe Howard really was insane. Maybe he was convinced that these things were real when they weren't. Dr. Logan was just here to help.

However, it didn't look much like helping when Vince was strapped to the gurney. It didn't feel much like helping when Logan stopped fiddling around with his machinery and attached electrodes to his head (messing up his perfect hair) and it _certainly _wasn't helping when electricity hit him and jolted his whole body off the gurney.


	13. Chapter 12

**This one's pretty short, guys, but the previous one was rather long, so I hope that makes up for it? Anyway, things are picking up a bit and I've kinda gone where I wanted to go with this, so I can sort of advance the plot like I wanted to after this... I hope it doesn't disappoint!**

**Thank you to ALL OF MY AMAZING REVIEWERS because you're amazing and perfect and I'd probably stop writing this (or at least posting it) if you didn't keep reviewing :) Love you guys loads!**

**Biiiiig thanks to: IceySummer (because your new username won't post, apparently!) Oh and I don't know if I've said before but GO CHECK OUT HER NEW FIC, GUYS! It's awesome! GrowlyNoir, Adurna Skulblaka, Vince'sgothgirl, 4tr3, thejigsawtimess and Lion Seal for reviewing, and also to BatsNotDogs for favouriting :) **

**Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be dancing around my living room in no pants. But I'm not, okay?**

Howard launched himself from his bedroom as soon as Vince and Logan reached the elevators. He'd been watching them through the door, which he had purposely left ajar, even though it might have attracted unwanted attention from Logan. Howard took the stairs three at a time, hoping against hope that Logan would change his mind or that Vince would turn back and come back upstairs, or that Logan would fall and hit his head or-

He still couldn't believe that Vince had agreed to go with him – even after Howard's warnings and paranoia. Was he really that thick?

Howard tried not to answer his own question as he skidded into the lobby. The stairwell ended abruptly there – the basement wasn't exactly an official location. He darted through a set of doors to find the other stairs, the ones that were reserved for staff. He'd been down here enough times to remember that the bottom step creaked and that he'd have to step over it to avoid creating any disturbance. Down another short corridor, turn left, through the door, through the next room and there were the lab doors.

Howard had to take a moment to collect himself before he could open the door. It seemed to take an eternity for him to slow his breathing enough so that he would appear calm. The last thing that Vince needed was him freaking out on him… Vince. The thought spurred him on – gave him the final push. Howard opened the door cautiously, sweating profusely, afraid of what he would find in that room…

What he did find was even worse than he expected.

XXX

_Nothing could have prepared him for what happened when Logan dragged him downstairs. He'd tried to run, of course, but it was no use – he kept slipping in his haste to get away, and the floor was too shiny and Logan was so strong and too fast for him to get far. In the end, Howard just surrendered. All the fight was drained out of him as Logan practically carried him down the steps to the basement. The darkness down there was pressing and the single bulb didn't seem to be doing much to get rid of it. This was even worse than the first time he had gone – although willingly, that time – with Logan. At least that time it had been daylight outside and the darkness hadn't been closing in on him. Howard began to resent the dark._

_Logan didn't stop yanking his arm until they were in the main lab. Howard tried – weakly – to protest when he was shoved roughly to the table in the center, but once Logan had wrestled his limbs into place on the gurney, there wasn't much more he could do. _

_He heard the crackle of the electricity before he felt it – but when it eventually reached him, there was nowhere to escape to. He'd seen this on television, and it had always stopped after a while, but this torture seemed to be going on forever. Howard wasn't sure how long he had been there, but it seemed to stretch into hours by the time Logan switched the machine off._

_He wasn't done, though. He sat in a swivel chair opposite and dragged a heavy file onto his lap before leafing through it._

"_So, Howard. What exactly do you think you were doing sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to trespass in an out of bounds area?"_

_Of course, Howard couldn't reply. He was in shock – pardon the pun – from the 'treatment' he had just endured, and he couldn't think of a coherent answer anyway. Thankfully, the query was meant to be rhetorical, and Logan continued before long._

"_Only your insolence hasn't paid off, has it?" Logan asked cheerily, "Because all you learned, Howard, was what you already suspected, wasn't it? And I can just as easily make you… shall we say, forget? So you won't mention this to any of the others, will you?"_

"_N-no," Howard stammered. Logan's smile spread wider._

"_That's good. Anyway, you'd better be getting off to bed, shouldn't you? It's almost three o' clock in the morning – past your bedtime, don't you agree?"_

_Logan didn't make any move to assist Howard in getting up off the gurney, and he couldn't manage it himself. He just lay there, stranded, while Logan laughed at him._

"_As I've said before – useless. Worthless. Have you ever considered, Howard, that maybe it wasn't your parents who should have died in that car crash? That maybe your friends at the foster home were doing the right thing, that night? That maybe you shouldn't be here at all?" Logan teased, "I mean, if you can't even stand on your own two feet to get away…"_

Of course I've considered that, _Howard thought miserably, _it's all I can ever think about.

"_Even your botched suicide attempt was pathetic," Logan continued, "Couldn't even get that right, could you?"_

_That last remark forced Howard up off the gurney and shakily to his feet. He stumbled on his way to the door, and had to sit down at the top of the stairs before he passed out, but he eventually made it to the elevator, and collapsed inside, too exhausted and desperate to care about what might be lurking in the shadows._

_XXX_

To see the same thing happening to Vince – who he'd tried so hard to protect, and failed once more – was excruciating. To find Logan turned in his chair to stare at Howard despite his best efforts to be quiet, was even worse. Because now there was no chance of him being able to rescue Vince. Now Logan had both of them in his clutches. He'd just made everything worse by coming down here, not that he could have just left them to it, no way…

"Ah, Howard, what a lovely surprise," Logan said maliciously, as though it was anything but. Howard stood his ground – not that he could have done anything else, really, because his legs had turned to lead.

"Let Vince go," Howard said bravely, squeezing his hands into fists. Logan continued to smile, watching the machine beside him making a whirring sound, the lights flashing on and off.

"I can assure you, Howard, that we're almost done. A few more minutes, yes?"

"Let him go _now_!" Howard bellowed, and prepared to launch himself at the man. Logan just chuckled, and adjusted the machine.

"I can make this worse, Howard. Worse for the both of you." Howard watched, glued to the spot, as Vince's limp form began to convulse more vigorously.

"What are you doing to him?" Howard managed to squeak, although it was incredibly obvious. Logan's smile stretched wider. Hopefully it would break his jaw before he could do anything worse.

"Increasing the voltage," Logan smirked, noting something down on his clipboard. Howard looked on hopelessly, knowing that taking a step further into the room would only convince Logan to fiddle with the electricity even more. He stayed where he was.

"That's dangerous, you're going to kill him-"

"No, it isn't high enough for that. Not yet. Not even enough to injure permanently, not yet. Unless you'd like to see the effects of this…?" Logan once again reached out a hand for the dial, but Howard cried 'no!' just in time and he dropped the hand back to his lap.

_Everything I say is useless, _Howard thought miserably, _I'm no good to anyone. Some 'man of action' I am._

Agonizing seconds ticked by, and Howard couldn't stand it anymore. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Logan flicked a switch and the machine stopped buzzing and settled down on the table. Vince stopped convulsing. Everything was still for a few seconds, until the younger boy whimpered slightly and Howard rushed over to his friend.

"Vince… Vince, are you okay?" Howard begged, smoothing Vince's hair away from his sweaty forehead. Vince yelped and tried to roll away from Howard's touch, and he realized that this was doing nothing to ease his nerves. He stepped back slightly, apologetic.

"It's all right, little man, it's all going to be fine," Howard said gently, and set about detaching Vince from the machine. All the while, Logan smirked in the background, watching the touching scene with his fingers steepled, contemplative.

Throwing one last fleeting glance over his shoulder into the room, Howard helped Vince to the door with the younger boy leaning heavily on him for support. It seemed to take an age to drag them both out of there, but he managed it, all too slowly, but reaching the world above the basement all the same.

XXX

Logan paced his office excitedly. Things couldn't be going better. Of course, he hadn't anticipated Moon storming in on Noir's appointment like that, but instead of putting him off, it enticed him further. Of course, the one similar treatment that Moon had undergone had been last year, and had been to scare him off more than anything else, although shock therapy could definitely 'help' with the depression… Everything was perfect. Two birds with one stone. He could make them both 'well' again, reduce them to shells of the people they once were, grind them down one treatment at a time until they were both ready to give up. And they were friends, as well. Perfect. Now they wouldn't even be able to find solace in each other. A few months of this, and Noir's personality would be toned down enough to send him home. He'd return to his parents the perfect child, obedient and less manic and, best of all, _normal_ … And maybe he could even cure Moon of his depression. Although there was always the possibility of pushing him further into his state of melancholia, if he were to go too far… A chance worth taking, if it meant calming Noir down and reducing his manic episodes. A chance _well _worth taking.

XXX


	14. Chapter 13

**Aaahh I've been meaning to write this for ages! I do have legitimate excuses, though (when don't I?). I had to go to my 'friend's' birthday meal out on Tuesday (which was horrible, by the way - she's so annoying!) and then on Wednesday I was at the cinema with my Dad. Yesterday, not only was the Internet down in my area, but I had a massive family drama, so I've simply had NO TIME. **

**By the way, now seems as good a time as any to warn you that I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this right now, and how the HELL I'm going to follow up to this chapter. You'll just have to wait and see! WAIT being the operative word ;) Joking, of course. I'll try to update real quickly!**

**Huuuuuuge thanks to: GrowlyNoir, 4tr3, Vince'sgothgirl, 02, Adurna Skulblaka, Lion Seal and thejigsawtimess for your beautiful reviews. Oh and thanks to **alexxkalika and BatsNotDogs for favouriting!

**Disclaimer: IT ISN'T MINE. NONE OF IT. NOTHING. *Wails***

How he managed to drag Vince all the way to the elevators and down the corridor to his room, Howard would never quite comprehend, but all that mattered was that he'd done it. He'd even carried him part way, when Vince's legs failed to support him any longer. Now they were both curled up on Howard's bed, with the blankets tucked firmly around the younger boy and the door firmly shut with the wardrobe in front. Howard had surrendered all of his pillows to Vince, who had created a cocoon of linen, and was currently drifting in and out of a state similar to sleep, but not quite as peaceful. Neither boy had spoken since they had made it upstairs – what was there to say, really? All Howard could do was watch on helplessly as Vince battled whatever internal fight he was having alone.

It was just past lunchtime when Michelle came looking for them. They hadn't turned up to the meal, of course, although they'd heard her calling for them, her tone growing increasingly more worried as she paced the corridor outside. She rattled the door handle now, before slamming her shoulder into the door and calling for Howard to let her in.

"Can't you come back later?" Howard panicked, trying to come up with a suitable excuse for their absence. Michelle sighed loudly.

"Howard, has something happened? Let me in, honey, you can talk to me! Is Vince with you?"

"Yeah, he's in here. He's asleep. We'll be out later, okay?"

Michelle didn't really see another option, so she retreated from the door and went to check that everything was running smoothly in the dining room. She was gone before Vince stirred from his slumber and blinked up at Howard with wide, innocent eyes.

"H-Howard?" Vince slurred, trying to sit up and failing. Howard tried to be comforting and smoothed Vince's blankets down.

"It's all right, you're safe now. Just go back to sleep."

"Wh-wha' happened?"

"Nothing, little man, nothing. Just sleep."

"You're lyin', Howard, I went- Ow!" Suddenly Vince dragged himself into an upright position, holding a hand to his head, "Shit."

"Headache?" Howard asked, remembering the packet of aspirin he'd convinced Michelle to trust him with. He reached over to the bedside cabinet to pick them up and offered them to Vince, who just frowned at the tablets.

"Logan, he…"

"I know, Vince," Howard sighed, refusing to meet the younger boy's eyes, "I tried to stop him, I tried…"

"You saved me," Vince whispered, and Howard shook his head too quickly.

"No. I tried to… I went down after you, but he… He wouldn't let me, he wouldn't… I tried, Vince, honestly, I tried."

"You rescued me," Vince smiled suddenly, his blue eyes full of admiration, "You brought me back up here."

"Yeah, I… Well, I wasn't just gonna leave you down there, was I?"

"Thanks, Howard. I'm sorry I wasn't there to save you." Guessing Vince was referring to Howard's earlier breakdown, he let it slide. A few seconds passed in silence.

"I should have listened to you, Howard. You told me not to trust him, but I… I thought he was gonna help. He said he was gonna cure me, I thought that maybe if I went through with it I'd get to go home and my parents would, I dunno, accept me."

Howard could do nothing but pat Vince's shoulder awkwardly while the boy spoke, and then offered the best form of reassurance he could.

"I don't blame you for not listening to me. S'not like anyone else does."

"I'll listen in future, Howard, I promise," Vince nestled his head into Howard's shoulder without thinking, and for once the older boy didn't protest. Vince needed him now, and he wasn't going to let him down again.

The rest of the afternoon passed like that. Vince slept for a while, and Howard sat around and waited for him to wake up again. He'd taken the aspirin with a dusty glass of water that had been sitting on the cabinet, and had reported that the headache was fading slightly. When dinner was announced, Vince was able to hobble through to the dining room with Howard's support.

Somehow, Howard had managed to forget that Logan still existed. That was, until he saw him sitting with the others at the dining room table, tucking cheerily into a sandwich, and felt Vince tense beside him.

Under the same circumstances, Howard would have turned and fled, maybe gone to throw up in the sinks. Okay, so he _had_ done that last time. But there was no way he was running anywhere this time, not with Vince standing resolutely beside him. It would have been easier to lock himself back in his room, but easy wasn't exactly a word that described what was going on here.

Slowly, they collected their own food and took seats at the table as far away from Logan as the room would allow. Michelle glanced their way, clearly concerned, but didn't raise any questions, not with him sitting right there. He made polite conversation throughout the meal, smiling manipulatively across at them occasionally, but apart from that he didn't show any signs that he remembered what had happened that morning. That only made it worse, Howard reasoned, because it showed he was even more calculating and cold than they'd originally suspected – this 'treatment' hadn't even been made official, if Michelle hadn't been informed. There was paperwork to be done, appointments to be made… but it wasn't as if Logan had ever obeyed any protocols before, anyway.

He was dangerous, so much was clear. Exactly how dangerous would soon become apparent.

XXX

The next day, things were almost back to normal – or as normal as things ever were in the unit, anyway. Vince had slept in Howard's room again, but instead of leaving the older boy to rest on the floor, they'd huddled together in the bed, with Vince closest to the wall so that Howard would sense any incoming danger before it hit. Neither of them had achieved much sleep, but it had been peaceful, at least.

There was no sign of Logan at breakfast, thankfully. There was no sign of him when Vince went through to the bathroom to get washed up. And there was still no sign of him when they met up with the tutor in one of the conference rooms.

Vince had just expected it to be him and Howard, but everybody turned up to the lesson, although no-one else was actually sitting their GCSEs. Michelle had said that it would keep them occupied, so that no more trouble was caused, and it would also keep them out of Logan's path.

At least now Vince could hide the fact that he hadn't learned anything in school for years from his new friend. The last thing he wanted was for Howard to think that he was even more of an idiot that he already did. How stupid had he been, going down to that basement alone with Logan, of his own free will? How naïve was that, really?

Vince tried to push all thoughts of Logan out of his head (which was harder than it sounded, actually) and concentrate on what the tutor was saying. The thing was, he had no idea what the tutor was saying. Something about converting recurring decimals into fractions. He stared at the open notebook in front of him and chewed thoughtfully on his pen. There was no way he was going to pass Maths, no way in hell, so he decided to put his time to better use and started doodling over the page.

XXX

Howard couldn't help but sneak glances at Vince when he thought the younger boy wasn't looking. He'd expected to see some attempt at notes, at least, maybe in different colours or with illustrations around them… but Vince's page was filled with cartoon creations and oddly shaped animals wearing sparkly clothes. He wasn't even trying to disguise the fact that he wasn't taking part in the lesson, as Howard tried to do every day. He'd missed so much school over the years that he'd long since given up any hope of actually achieving any GCSEs and settled for getting through each lesson with the tutor by scribbling frantically in his own notebook, although the equations and scrambled assortment of letters and numbers on the page made no sense to him whatsoever. He sorely regretted bunking off school for all those weeks with Deena and the others.

Eventually, Howard abandoned all hope of ever understanding the concept of '99x', and stared blankly out of the window for the remainder of the lesson.

XXX

Naboo wasn't even entirely sure what he was doing there. Michelle had claimed that they'd all have to sit in on the lesson today because of 'a change in circumstances' so now he was sat with his back to the tutor, whispering occasionally to Bollo, who was stretched out beside him scrunching up paper into tiny balls and rolling them across the floor. It was times like this that he missed his home planet. Things were much simpler there, when people didn't think he was crazy, back when he could have a real familiar instead of this complete imbecile, and when nobody tried to deactivate his potions before they had chance to brew properly.

Naboo suspected he was the only one there who actually understood what the tutor woman was babbling on about. It was simple enough. He'd seen that Noir kid doodling in his notebook, and bloody Howard was doing what he usually did – pretending that he understood to feel superior.

Naboo sighed. What a bunch of ball-bags.

XXX

When lessons were over for the day, Vince tried to seem nonchalant as he slammed his notebook shut. He didn't want Howard to see that he hadn't been paying attention, in case he gave him a lecture on the importance of GCSEs or something. Truth was, although he wasn't academic at the best of times, Vince hadn't fully recovered from yesterday's ordeal, and even though he'd tried to put on a brave face for Howard's sake, he felt shaky and weak, and the thought of it happening again made his knees buckle.

Logan poked his head around the door just as they were finishing dinner, and spoke to Michelle in hushed tones before beckoning for Howard and Vince to go with him into the corridor. Vince could hardly bring himself to move when he'd scraped back his chair, but Logan wouldn't wait for long, and he'd have to get up sooner or later.

"Okay, boys, now we're out here, I'd like to discuss something with you. In order for your treatments to be a success… I'd like to offer a proposal," Logan smiled harshly, chilling both boys to the bone. Vince scuffed his shoes on the shiny floor.

"I'd like you two to agree to doing some, ah, experiments, down in my lab, for a couple of days. Together."


	15. Chapter 14

**Hey, my lovely, lovely readers who I really hope are still reading this because I left you hanging for so long! I'm sorry.**

**Anyway, I really don't like this chapter. Like, REALLY don't like it. I'd go as far as to say that I despise it. I'd been trying to inspire myself to write this for ages, and it just didn't turn out how I wanted it to. My writing's gone all weird (I've been reading too much John Green and too little FanFiction) and IDK, I'll try to make the next chapter better.**

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews and please keep 'em comin'! I love you all very much for sticking with me :) Sorry if you hate this in advance.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

More was said during a brief glance exchanged between the two boys than could ever be said with words. Questions were raised (and not all of them answered), opinions shared, and a conclusion reached.

"No," both said in unison. Dr. Logan didn't seem fazed by this, however, and simply stepped back a little, nodded to himself and seemed to consider their reply. He didn't even flinch when Vince added 'You're insane if you think I'm going down there ever again'.

Logan didn't seem to be able to come up with a suitable reply, so he simply turned away from them and walked swiftly down the corridor again.

"That was… weird," Howard commented. It was certainly an odd exchange. Logan hadn't even put up a fight. In Howard's opinion, that meant he was up to something. Despite the strangeness of his proposal and the way in which he offered it, both boys knew that this wouldn't be the last they heard from Logan on _that _particular subject.

Another awkward hour of watching television passed before it became an acceptable time for everyone to go to bed. Michelle didn't seem comfortable leaving her patients in the care of the night stewards and Dr. Logan, but it wasn't as if she could just drop everything and stay the night, so, after a lot of deliberating over whether to call home and just hole up in one of the spare rooms for a few more hours, she reluctantly collected her things and left the building to go to her own car, files bundled under her arm, leaving both Vince and Howard to Logan's mercy.

"I almost forgot – I have an announcement to make!" Logan's voice boomed as everyone was about to leave the main area to go to their bedrooms. Several faces visibly paled at the words, "There will be a room check commencing in exactly-" He checked his watch and smiled slightly, "-four minutes. That will be all."

Running footsteps could be heard all over the ward, then.

XXX

Howard stood with his hands on his hips, gazing around his respective bedroom. There was no way he could hide his razor blades underneath the mattress – it would be the first place Logan would look. In the wardrobe, maybe? At the bottom, underneath a stack of clothes? That, too, seemed suspicious. He wished for a fleeting second that there was a window in the room so he could simply toss the blades out and have done with it. Or a crack in the wall so that he could slide them in and out easily. But, alas, there was neither a window or a crack in the wall, so he was going to have to make a choice – hide them on his person, which was even more risky, he decided, than planting them under the mattress, or disguise them using other objects in the room.

Unfortunately, Howard didn't really think of himself as an imaginative person (unless you counted his cream poetry, which was astonishingly beautiful and consisted entirely of his own creative similes) and the most inventive place to hide the blades was underneath his alarm clock. He had actually tried taking out the batteries and hiding the blades in the compartment where they were usually housed, but the angle was odd and they wouldn't fit. Instead, he placed the clock carefully on top of the two blades and hoped Logan would steer clear of the desk.

XXX

Vince didn't really know what a room check was supposed to consist of. He didn't have anything to hide, he reasoned, so he simply sat on his bed and waited for Logan to arrive. He wondered if he was supposed to tidy up or something, but after straightening the duvet and fluffing the pillows into a more attractive shape, he realized that he actually hadn't stayed in the room long enough for it to be messy yet. Even his clothes were still tucked safely away, his make-up sitting tidily on the desk. His straighteners were currently curled on the floor, the plug tangled around the wooden leg of the bed. He picked them up and dusted them off (not that they were dusty, he'd never let anything happen to his most prized possessions), then placed them carefully in the bottom of the wardrobe.

After that, it was just a matter of waiting it out.

XXX

Howard actually jumped when Logan rapped sharply on his bedroom door, and straightened up from where he had been frantically sweeping dust out of the corner of the room. He'd somehow gotten slightly tangled in a rather feisty cobweb and was still in the middle of batting the threads away when Logan entered.

"Ah, Howard, lovely to see you again," Logan smiled as he stepped further into the room. He glanced over at the bed and then back to where Howard was standing, shifting from foot to foot and trying his best not to look guilty of anything. Which was difficult, with eyes as small as his.

Without another word, Logan stealthily flipped the mattress, sending both the pillows and the duvet toppling off onto the floor. Satisfied that the bed didn't contain any contraband, he stepped to the wardrobe and wrenched the doors open, leaving the mattress upside down on the floor.

After a few moments of rifling through Howard's clothes (all organized in a delicate system, firstly by colour and then by formality), occasionally ripping a garment free from its hanger and tossing it onto the empty bedframe (which made it hard to resist dashing to pick the fallen item up and replace it on its designated hanger in its designated place in the wardrobe), Logan gave up and slammed the doors shut again. The only place he hadn't inspected now was the desk – which, judging by the ruthlessness of his search so far, meant that Howard would be discovered almost immediately. As Howard suspected, Logan simply swept everything onto the floor with one arm and let out a sharp cry of pleasure when the razor blades betrayed Howard by making a clinking noise when the metal hit the linoleum.

"I- I have no idea how they got there, someone must've been in my room-" Howard's protests were weak, and Logan simply laughed.

"Yes, I'll bet they have. You have five minutes to clean up in here, and then I expect to see you downstairs."

"No! I won't go, you can't make me! I don't-"

Logan put his face close to Howard's and spat, clearly and precisely, "I don't _care_ what you _want_, Moon. _I _want results. And I am going to get them. Basement. Now."

"B-but you said- Shouldn't I clean up here-?"

"No!" Logan snapped, finally losing his temper, "Go!"

Howard went.

XXX

Vince, obviously, had heard the row going on next door, as well as the telltale sound of furniture hitting the ground. He'd tried to do something with himself now, sure that Howard was in some sort of trouble – but what _could _he do, exactly? It would probably just make it worse if he tried to intervene… and besides, he was still feeling shaky from their run-in with Logan earlier, he wasn't keen to give him another reason to strap him to a gurney again.

So Vince paced his bedroom and tried to forget about the whole thing. Which was much more difficult than it sounded.

As soon as Logan came into the room, Vince pounced, "What have you done to Howard? I 'eard you, stampin' around in 'is room! S'not fair, the way you bully everyone 'round 'ere!"

Logan chuckled, "That is the exact sort of behavior that earns you a trip downstairs, Vince. Perhaps you'd like to join Howard in the basement?"

Vince remembered how Howard had bravely stepped in to help him when he couldn't help himself. And he remembered the cruel crackle of electricity as it threatened to flow into his brain. It was obvious that the two urges, the urge to protect his new best friend (because it was always inevitable that that was what they were going to become, eventually), and the urge to stay away from danger, would battle it out against each other, and it was obvious which would win.

Vince shut up.

XXX

It was cold down there, and Howard drew his knees up to his chest in a futile attempt to warm himself. He was trembling not only from the cold, but from the shock of being back in this environment, and the fear that came with it. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Vince would be here to save him soon. He'd have to save him. He couldn't just leave him in the basement all alone.

He wasn't really sure what to do with himself, so he made his way through to Logan's office and sat in Logan's swivel chair and drank a can of Coke from Logan's mini-fridge. The Coke did nothing to calm his nerves, though – if anything, it set him more on edge. He could only begin to imagine the horrors that awaited him in Logan's little workshop, and the mere thought of being completely taken over by this man was enough to drive him properly insane.

It took half an hour of sitting alone and thinking for Logan to make his way back downstairs. Howard half expected to see Vince on his heels, but when Logan was by himself, he wasn't surprised. Vince was probably biding his time, waiting for the right moment to come and rescue him.

It was only a matter of time, Howard told himself, hugging his knees more tightly to his chest, only a matter of time before his best friend would save him.


End file.
